Sacrifices Betrayals Love and Foolishness
by TheSiner
Summary: Harry and Snape are forced to marry and it doesn’t really work out that well. Harry is depressed, Snape is stubborn, and everyone else is selfish. HP/SS, slash, mpreg, A/U
1. Chapter 1

bAuthor: /bTheSiner

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Sacrifices Betrayals Love and Foolishness

**Word Count:** 35,000

**Chapters**: 1/4

**Genre**: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing**: Harry/Snape, Snape/?

**Summary**: Harry and Snape are forced to marry and it doesn't really work out that well. Harry is depressed, Snape is stubborn, and everyone else is selfish. HP/SS, slash, mpreg, A/U

**Setting:** After The Order of The Phoenix and the Department of Mysteries. Harry has just turned sixteen.

**Rating**: Nothing too terrible, a bit of sex a bit of depressive themes.

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), OOC, A/U, non-canon, angsty, emotional, dubious consent(somewhat), male pregnancy is more than just mentioned, not beta-edited, may seem disturbing, door-mat-ish Harry, some grammar errors.

There are going to be four Chapters:

1. Sacrifices

2. Betrayals

3. Foolishness

4. Love

**Warning – A/N:**

!Spoilers ahead!

**Cliché**** -** It is another '_Harry marries Snape for protection'_ kind of story with a twist, so I am being very unoriginal.

Yeah, you have been warned, that this is your typical Harry marries Snape fare.

There is angst, drama, and people who feel deeply and act illogically sometimes. Some characters are being critiqued, but it's not exactly bashing – I hate that kind of thing.

Sorry is as it and ends as it ends, but if you have ideas about how to improve it, I am looking forward to hearing them. My stories rarely remain as they were, when I first post them.

You might be left wanting more after THE END.

Has been somewhat inspired by _At the Heart of_ _Things_ by **empathic** **siren**. Not really, only very few parallels could be drawn, but still, you might find it interesting to read that story as well (google it).

* * *

…**Sacrifices…**

**1.**

Harry gets bonded to Severus Snape on a warm and sunny day of August.

August is a very mild and calm month. The cheerful heat of summer has started to give way to melancholy chill of autumn.

Albus Dumbledore says it's his own fault, of course not so bluntly, but that is what he means. Yes, it kind of is. Harry is sixteen now and the Wizarding law sees sixteen-year-old wizards as somewhat capable to decide for themselves, even if they are not of age yet.

Unfortunately, a couple of days after he turns sixteen, Harry manages to say something implying that he was not feeling at home with the Dursleys that Privet Drive number four has never been his home and never will be.

Later Harry cannot exactly remember all he said, because his head always gets a bit woozy after his uncle smacks him around.

However, he has managed to deactivate the wards that were created by his mother's blood magic and were going to protect him as long as Harry would call the Privet drive number four his home.

Harry wonders if the Headmaster knows. About the beatings, that is. If he even cares.

Probably it doesn't matter for the big picture. It was not that bad anyway, a slap here or there a cuff in his side. Nothing more then Harry could take.

Certainly getting away from his uncle is not worth the trouble Harry's 'disownment' has caused. The Order is frantically scrabbling about for a solution. They don't say anything, they suspect what Harry's home life was like. However, their disappointment is seeping through averted eyes, tightening of lips, gestures that you can't name, can't point out, but that register somewhere with the less conscious parts of your mind.

Albus Dumbledore thinks that the protection could be transferred to Harry's spouse, if he had one. Harry needs a new family.

Therefore, he has to get married or bonded. And who is more suitable than the Hogwarts Potions Master and former (recently uncovered) spy Severus Snape? The wizard himself needs an extra protection, since he is on Voldemort's hit-list right below The-Boy-Who-Lived and Albus Dumbledore these days. Moreover, since the place he calls his Home for almost as many years as Harry had lived in this world, is Hogwarts… everyone sees the convenience. The school could use some extra protection as well.

Some of the 'Old Crowd' bang their heads against the table and wonder why they didn't think about it sooner. Arthur Weasley, who is one of those, who are not really happy with the arrangement, is forced to remind them that it is not exactly legal to bond someone who is younger than sixteen, considering what a marriage entails.

The head banging stops and someone changes the subject. They don't want to think about what the marriage of Severus Snape and Harry Potter, no, better The-Boy-Who-Lived, will entail. And Harry is not a child anymore. He is a young man. The-Boy-Who-Lived only looks younger, because he is a bit on the small side.

Molly Weasley snuffles a bit too loudly. She cares for Harry and thinks it is not fair to the boy. But she also wants to see him in good health and alive, so she knows that it's necessary… and somewhere in a corner of her mind, a little voice reminds Molly that she has two more children still in Hogwarts as well and she wants them to be safe behind the enhanced wards.

Harry doesn't protest. How can he raise any objections, if everyone, except Ron, maybe, says it is for the best?

It is only two months since Sirius has been gone. They are staying at Grimmauld Place and Harry still expects to turn around a corner, to open a door… and there he would be. Standing in the kitchen with a chipped, steaming mug in his hand, grinning. Every time Mrs. Black starts screaming about mudbloods and bloodtraitors, Harry expects Sirius powerful voice to shout back at her.

And no matter what everyone says; Harry knows that it was his fault. How can he object to something that would keep everyone safe? Hermione and Ron even. Remus looks very uncomfortable, but he says that he believes that Severus is a good, honourable man and that he will not do anything to hurt Harry deliberately and that

Severus will take care of him and keep him safe. The first part does not sound very convincing, but the second does. Obviously, Remus also doesn't want to loose anyone else.

Harry is not sure though. He doesn't even try to understand the werewolf. With him, it is always as if he is there and then he is not at the same time. Like he cares, but he doesn't. However, Harry is trying not to be upset about it. After all, Remus Lupin has had a very hard life and a lot of problems. Harry probably can't even imagine, how hard it must be.

What right does Harry have to want something more of the man? After what happened in the Department of Mysteries, he can be happy that Remus still wants to talk to him, right?

On the day he gets married, Harry feels rather numb. That is his usual state since Sirius is gone. At first, there was disbelief, then there was grief, after grief came rage and then again grief. So much grief that it simply got too much and then… then one day Harry realised that his grief had dulled to numbness.

Maybe it is for the better; otherwise, Harry might not have gone along with the bonding.

He notices that Snape had not said a single word to him and refuses to look at his future husband. Not that Harry can blame him. Snape probably wants to marry him even less than Harry wants to marry Snape. Maybe the man already has a lover somewhere… no, scratch that. Harry is James Potter's son and that is probably enough to turn Snape off him completely.

The boy is surprised to notice that the numbness recedes for a moment and he feels a pang of something, like lead pouring into his stomach at the thought that now Snape probably hates him even more. And he decides that is a good thing, after all, that Snape isn't looking at him, because Harry is not sure if he could stand seeing loathing and disgust in his eyes.

Harry doesn't really want that, he isn't trying to antagonise the man on purpose, he doesn't really want anyone to dislike him. Harry is afraid that a part of him will forever remain that little, unwanted boy, who is desperately craving for acceptance.

The ceremony is held at The Burrow, in the garden. After the spells are cast, they eat the food that Molly had cooked and there is even a cake that she cuts herself though.

No one is particularly hungry. Some of the 'guests' (the most reliable Order members) put the emphasis on firewhiskey, others mostly push the food around their plates. Molly seems to be frustrated.

Even Ron who is usually eating for three barely touches the food and barely opens his mouth. He is the only real opposition to Harry's marriage. If things had been different, Harry would have been grateful for the fact that someone was looking out for him. He knows that Ron has also offered to marry Harry himself. Molly would have none of it. Ron is only sixteen, not powerful enough and The-Boy-Who-Lived needs protection. In other words, he is not doomed like Harry and they wouldn't want to ruin his life, his future, but there is nothing to ruin about Snape's life.

Harry agrees. Better, be it Snape than Ron. The boy wisely keeps his mouth shut when his best friend asks: "And what about you, Harry? What about your life?" He is not going to admit that he doesn't care that much about his life. He would be glad to use it to do some good for people he cares for.

Harry mostly stares at the checked tablecloth and almost manages to tune out everyone around him. He is still thinking of Sirius.

Later they return to the Hogwarts by floo. Harry as usually stumbles and almost hits his head on the hard stone floor of the Headmaster's office. However, he does not have much time to pull himself together, since Snape is already at the door and obviously isn't going to wait even until the boy gets up from the floor. Harry assumes that someone like him doesn't see any excuses for clumsiness and it is one more thing the man despises in him.

Harry almost has to run to keep up with Snape whose long legs are carrying him down the stairs and corridors. He doesn't want to loose the man, because no one has told him where they will be staying. In fact, he hasn't been told much at all, except that he has to marry for his and everyone else's protection. For the greater good.

Harry thinks that Snape's private chambers are not that bad. Well, most likely nothing halfway decent is ever bad for someone whose first room has been a cupboard… but the rooms are nice enough. There is a living area with a fireplace, which the Potions Master lights as soon as they enter, two armchairs with a small table between them and a sofa and a huge bookshelf along one of the walls.

"That door," Snape points out. "Is my office. You are not allowed there. There," he points out again, "Is the bedroom and adjoining bathroom."

Then, still not looking at the boy, Severus Snape lists more things Harry Potter is not allowed to do or touch. Sadly, the books are one of the untouchables. But Harry understands; these are Snape's books after all. Everything down there is Snape's.

Then Snape vanishes in the bedroom without a word. Harry sits down on the edge of the dark brown sofa timidly. Snape has not forbidden him to use the furniture, but the boy just doesn't feel comfortable.

About fifteen minutes later, he appears again. He is wearing a very dark green robe over a set of black pyjamas. They look very nice. Silk or satin, Harry doesn't really know, because all he has ever had had been cotton. He suddenly remembers his own, worn pyjamas, which are actually Dudley's old and at least four sizes too large. He is embarrassed and doesn't want Snape to see them.

Then Snape orders him to get into the bathroom and clean up. Thoroughly. That does sting a bit. There might be many things that are wrong with Harry, but he really likes to be clean and enjoys his time in the bathroom. Vernon used to lock him in or deny the boy a chance to properly use bathroom and then call him little, dirty freak… Harry likes to be clean, if he can. Besides, he finds long showers very relaxing, a chance to escape from everything for a bit. Usually people do that in sleep, but for obvious reasons that doesn't work for Harry.

Nightmares.

The boy doesn't dare to take to much time though and in about ten minutes, he is standing in the dimly lit bedchamber with large, but only one bed in the middle of it. Harry's heart starts beating faster and it feels as if it will jump out of his throat. He looks around to see if there is a cupboard somewhere, because he can't believe that Snape would allow him to sleep with him.

"Get into the bed," Snape orders from where he is standing at the door, arms crossed over his chest. He looks as if he is trying to glare a hole into Harry's… well, general direction.

Harry pulls back the duvet, but just before he had lifted one of his feet from the floor, he hears one more direction: "Take off your bottoms and lie face down."

Harry doesn't understand. His cheeks burn, but he really doesn't. Why would Snape want him to do something like that, something so embarrassing? Is he trying to humiliate him?

"Don't be difficult about it, Potter," the Potions Master spits. He almost sounds affronted. "This has to be done and I want to get over with it."

And then Harry understands and berates himself for being naïve. They are married. **Married**. Yes, right until this moment he has thought that this will be a marriage in name only and… no one has even mentioned that he and Snape will have to, have to… but obviously, they will. Obviously, the marriage must be consummated, or something like that, to make it real, he thinks he has red or heard about it somewhere.

One thing Harry is sure about. Snape wouldn't be doing this, if it weren't necessary.

Harry nods numbly and thinks that it would have been better if someone had warned him as he is pulling the threadbare pyjama bottoms over his knees and letting them fall on his slippers on the floor. The boy isn't even sure how men go about it, but he has no doubt that Snape does.

Harry does as he has been told. He lies down, his head on the pillow, looking at the door of a built-in closet on the other side of the bed. It has brass knobs. He notices that the bed is comfortable and linens smell freshly washed. But no matter, how many nonessential things he is trying to busy his mind with, Harry feels the cold, dank dungeon air on his exposed flesh.

He is trying to stay calm, pretend that it is a just a chore or something like a doctor's visit, anything, but his first time, but the lump in his throat feels is about to choke him. Then Harry feels the bed dip and Snape's weight on him, as the man straddles his legs.

Very soon Harry finds out, how two men go about it.

He lies on his side of the bed facing the built-in closet and not seeing it, with silent tears rolling down his cheeks. Harry couldn't have told if he was asked, what was worse, the physical pain or the emotional. And no one is asking him anyway. Snape leaves the room as soon as it is done, probably to wash off all the evidence that he had ever touched Harry Potter.

Harry doesn't dare to move. The boy doesn't want to feel the ache shooting up his spine from his abused opening. Snape ordered him to relax, but Harry couldn't and it hurt. At least the man didn't call him any names, that would have made it much worse. Harry can't think of much that could have made it worse, though.

But he knows that it will heal.

Harry wishes that Sirius were here to hold him more than ever. He feels so sad, so lonely. Humiliated and violated. As if he had been torn open and will never be able to close those wounds again. Like something had been sucked out of him, so empty.

**2.**

When Harry wakes up next morning, he is alone. The bed linens do not smell so fresh anymore. He rolls over to the other side and sniffs the other pillow. Musky. He had smelled it before, but doesn't know the name for the scent. So, Snape had slept there. Probably he returned after Harry fell asleep.

But what does it matter? Harry is not sure.

He wonders why do they have to share the bed at all and if they would have to repeat the last night. Harry also knows that he will not dare to ask.

He drags himself into the blue tiled bathroom, hoping that a shower will make him feel better. It doesn't. Nothing does.

It is supposed to get better; at least that is what they say, isn't it? But it isn't getting better.

For the last two weeks of August, Harry tries to get used to it. Living with Snape. His husband. Harry tries not to annoy him, but it is obviously impossible, because it is nothing he does, it is his mere existence that the man cannot stand. Once the boy tries to make tea, as a peace offering, a kind gesture or maybe he's just trying to prove that he is not completely useless…

It does not go over well. It turns out that the Potions Master keeps potion ingredients in the kitchen, which look like tea, smell like tea, but are not tea. Harry thinks that he has never seen Snape so angry; he has not really tried to poison the man. His hands are trembling as he pours the 'tea' down the drain and washes the cups. Then he locks himself in the bathroom to cry. He never tries to do something like that again. Harry hardly dares to touch anything at all.

It doesn't get better even when the school starts. Everyone knows that he is married to Snape; Rita Skeeter has been awfully helpful with letting the public know. That by itself is not such a big deal, because all the marriages have to be publicly announced. The thing is that Skeeter didn't stop at simply announcing the fact, of course not. She also made all kind of wild speculations about sordidness of his and Snape's relationship.

It feels like everyone whispers behind his back and even openly taunts him. Draco Malfoy is enjoying himself like never before now, with Harry's marriage. The only shield against them is his numbness. it is as if nothing can hurt Harry more than he has already been hurt.

Sometimes it all seems just a dream.

Ron and Hermione are still there, they are still his friends, but they are very busy Hermione has so many classes and she has become the Head Girl. It is unusual, because she is only in her sixth year, but while Harry wonders, he is happy for her. Ron is the new Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team; But Harry isn't even allowed to play. Whoever could have done it hasn't lifted the ban and it seems that no one really wants to do anything to change that. They all say it is sad, but probably safer for him that way.

Besides, his two best friends are together as a couple now and that means they want to spend some time alone. They haven't told Harry yet, but even he is not blind and they are too obvious.

But all of that leaves Harry mostly alone. He doesn't feel so comfortable around the other Gryffindors, nor they feel comfortable around him. The boy can't really blame them. Everyone has a reason to be uncomfortable with his marriage. The fact that he is married to a man, to the Head of the Slytherin, a former Death Eater, their teacher – whichever it is, Harry cannot help, but feel unwelcome in his House.

Therefore, he is hiding a lot these days. While it is warm outside, he sits under his Cloak by the lake. When it starts getting colder, he hides in the corner of the Library or even in the Room of Requirements. He never returns to Snape's rooms before the curfew. He is not welcome there too after all.

Snape is… it is hard. The Potions Master treats him worse than ever in the class. No matter how hard he tries to chop, slice, dice or stir, he is never getting it right. Snape keeps telling him how inept, lazy and clumsy he is. He keeps pairing the boy with Malfoy who taunts him mercilessly until Harry cannot stand it anymore and hits him in the face.

That just earns Harry a week of detention and more verbal abuse from Snape. Harry scrubs cauldrons until the tips of his fingers bleed and sting. But it is worth it – to see Malfoys face.

But he is still unsure of what is worse, when his husband shouts at him or when he is being completely ignored, as it happens when Harry is in Snape's rooms. It's as if he were invisible. Is Harry really so disgusting, so horrible to even look at?

Is he really not good for anything?

More and more often, he thinks that things would have been so much better without him. Dursleys wouldn't have suffered of magical people invading their home if they hadn't been forced to have him. Sirius would have been alive. Even his parents probably would have been alive. Hermione and Ron would be able to enjoy their time together, not being forced to consider and include their poor, depressed friend. They wouldn't have been in danger just because they were his friends. And Snape would be free, not tied to an ugly, scrawny son of his enemy.

But Harry is trying very hard.

While everything is screaming at him to give up, to let go, he knows that he can't yet.

Yet.

**3.**

When the time comes, Harry Potter is ready to die.

Albus Dumbledore tells him the truth a day before it happens. It turns out that Tom Marvolo Riddle had split his soul into seven parts and made something called horcruxes. The Order had tracked down and destroyed most of them. There are only two left. One of them is Nagini, the other – Harry. He is carrying a piece of the monsters soul inside him and to destroy it Harry must die by Voldemort's hand.

It turns out that to be the hero and the Saviour of the Wizarding World the only thing he has to do is nothing. Harry has to allow Voldemort to kill him.

But it's all right.

Harry is ready.

Some days he wishes he had never been born at all anyway. Other days he wishes… but it doesn't matter. He does not have enough to make him hold to his life anymore. Hermione and Molly Weasley are crying and almost suffocating him in their arms. Not that they know what is really going to happen. They think that he is just going to face Voldemort, to fulfil his fate. Harry is grateful that they don't know the truth.

But it is going to be all right. He is going to save everyone, they are going to be safe and they are going to remember him with kindness. And that would be enough.

The battle is raging around them. Snape is by Harry's side firing hexes in every direction, dragging the boy with him. The-Boy-Who-lived feels worthless, he cannot do much. No one has taught him, how to fight properly and it is not his mission anyway.

Harry tries to concentrate on what he has to do and ignore the chaos, the madness around him. Death. Today death is ruling everywhere.

Harry feels when they are coming closer to Voldemort. The scar is hurting like mad, his head feels like it is about to burst open from all the pain.

One moment Snape looks down at the boy, he is a head taller than Harry is, and there is something unfathomable in his gaze and Harry feels like he should say something to Snape. But the moment is over too soon as the dark wizard jostles Harry out of the way of another hex and continues dragging him towards the Dark Lord.

Harry does not know what he wanted to say anyway and doesn't think that anything he could have said would be welcomed.

It happens very fast. He makes Voldemort laugh by throwing a couple of childish hexes at the Dark Lord. He tunes out 'the speech'. It's only point is that almighty Lord Voldemort is much better than him and everyone else.

Harry doesn't let the words to get to him. Those are his last moments; the boy has made his peace with that. He is resigned to his fate. He is not letting Voldemort's pettiness, cruelty, his ugliness to see him off to his last great journey.

Obviously, Voldemort has more wizards to kill tonight, so he decides that it is time for Harry to die.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The last words Harry is supposed to hear.

Then there is dark.

When he becomes aware of himself, Harry looks around and sees that he is standing at the bank of a lake, somewhere in a forest clearing. It is not Hogwarts, it is not anywhere in the Wizarding Britain. Somehow, the boy knows that. It is so peaceful there. Safe. It is a sanctuary.

Then Harry smiles for the first time in… well, very long time. His mother, father and Sirius are coming out of the forest.

Lily opens her arms and Harry runs to her and allows her to pull him into the first embrace from his mother that the boy remembers. James fingers are carding through his hair.

It must be Heaven!

"So beautiful, my child," Lily whispers. "They don't deserve you."

Harry looks up and sees tears in her eyes. Lily is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. She looks happy and sad at the same time.

She reluctantly releases the boy that is shorter than she is and lets James to embrace him as well.

"I love you, Harry, I'll always will," James says. "Nothing can be compared to joy of holding your firstborn in your arms."

"It's time," Sirius' says and Harry does not understand for what. "It's time for you to return, Harry," the man explains pulling Harry in his arms. "I am proud of you. Be strong."

Harry shakes his head. Return? Return!

No.

He wants to stay.

"I'm sorry, it's not time yet…" Lily smiles sadly. "There are still things for you to do…" her smile widens then and the sadness is gone. "Something very important, Harry."

"There is NOTHING! NOTHING for me!" Harry shouts as the forest clearing and his parents fade, and once again, he is alone in the dark.

**4.**

Harry isn't sure how much time passes until he wakes up. Surprisingly the first person he sees is Snape looming over his bed.

"So you are awake," the man says with the same unreadable expression that he is often wearing. Harry is glad that he can't read his so-called husband, because he doesn't want to see man's disappointment, because Harry had stayed alive. Once again, against all odds. He just doesn't!

Harry has just realised that Snape would have been free, if he had died.

A wave of sadness washes over the boy. He wants to return to the peaceful place, to Sirius and his parents. Maybe he could…

"Poison…" Harry whispered his voice hoarse from not being used for some time and his throat painfully dry. Harry is so tired of hurting.

"What?" That definitely catches Snape's attention.

"You can," the boy rasps. "Make poisons."

Snape freezes, black eye boring into hazy green orbs that are slowly, but steadily filling with tears.

He must understand. It would be better for them both. Snape would be free and Harry would have his family.

No one would say that Snape is slow on the uptake. Potion Master's eyes blaze in anger and he grabs Harry by the collar of his pyjamas and shakes him: "How dare you… you… little, pitiful coward!" The man bellows and tiny drops of his spittle hits Harry's face.

Harry suddenly feels so angry. The boy gathers all his strength, puts his hand over Snape's hand and tears if off.

"How dare b**you/b**! You know nothing! NOTHING!

Since when do you care?"

Then the boy turns around and buries himself under the duvet as heart-wrenching sobs overtake him. He does not know if Snape stays in the room. He does not care who hears him. Harry has a right to have at least this, his bitter tears. A moment of self-pity.

When he wakes up again later, Harry concludes that he must have cried himself to sleep. This time he is not left in peace again. Madame Pomfrey hurries to his sides and starts casting diagnostic spells and forcing potions down his throat. When she is finally satisfied, the visitors start crowding in.

The Headmaster is there and the most of the Weasleys and his housemates and even Rufus Scrimgeour, the new Minister of Magic. God, but Harry had no idea that there was a new Minister.

Everyone is so happy that he is all right. Everyone wants to greet him. Everyone is so grateful and relieved. Strangely, it somehow rubs Harry the wrong way. Those are not the feelings he wants to explore, but their relief stings.

The only ones that are really welcome by his hospital bed are Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid though. And Madam Pomfrey is being kind of decent about everything.

Ron has become a hero as well. He is the one who stabbed Voldemort with the Gryffindor sword while the monster was still riding out the thrill of finally having disposed of The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry is happy for his friend, because isn't that something Ron has always wished for? To be something, someone? It is that Harry thinks that his best friend is nothing more than the younger Weasley boy is. Not at all. Harry thinks that Ron is a generous, good person, a good keeper, and a chess genius and many other things. However, he suspects that Ron himself sometimes dismisses all the things that make him so special.

Well, but then, there is nothing wrong with wanting to be well known in the Wizarding world, just because Harry doesn't want it. He doesn't begrudge Ron a bit of fame.

Harry doesn't see Snape until Madam Pomfrey releases him from the Infirmary three days later and he is forced to return to the chambers he is sharing with his husband. The classes have been cancelled for a week and Harry doesn't want to be anywhere where his schoolmates could come up to him and start congratulating the boy or call him 'their Hero'. For the first time since moving into the dungeons, Harry finds

Snape's rooms more comfortable than the other places.

He is relieved when the man doesn't order him to get out, Harry almost expects him to. Every time Snape stalks past Harry who is reading a book, curled up on the couch, the boy expects him to blow up. It doesn't happen.

Anyway, it feels like something has changed between them. It is very awkward. Harry catches the man watching him sometimes and sometimes Snape looks like he wants to say something, but then he stops himself.

The Potions Master has not yelled at the boy since Harry has returned from the Hospital Wing. Maybe it is so, because there are no classes. After all that is when he usually mucks everything up and gives Snape an opportunity to shout at him. Snape also gets the house elves to deliver food straight to their rooms. And mentions that if Harry wanted, his friends could visit them in their rooms.

"…Our rooms," he says, and Harry feels something flutter in his stomach.

From someone like Snape it is an awfully nice thing to hear and it makes Harry's life so much easier.

The only problem it makes the boy even more confused, adding to the confusion of being alive. He has not expected to survive after all. Harry suddenly realises that he had given up his life long before the Headmaster told him that he had to die.

A ball is held to celebrate the victory. Mrs. Weasley buys Harry new dress robes, despite his protests that he hasn't grown out of the one he bought for the ball during the fourth year. But she insists.

"You look nice, I guess," Ron admits and then blushes to the roots of his hair, which is already red, so it is quite a sight.

Harry himself has no idea what he looks like. He doesn't like looking in the mirror, because his mother, his father and Voldemort is all he can see staring back at him. Eyes, hair, the scar.

Harry does not want to leave the room at the night of the ball. At least he doesn't have to find a date, since he is married and, no matter how weird that is, Severus Snape is accompanying him.

He is very surprised when the Potions Master offers his arm though. Harry looks the man in the eye and doesn't see any scorn or disdain there, so he accepts and once again feels the fluttering in his tummy.

He thought he had accepted that Severus Snape would hate him forever, that all, he could do to make their life together bearable, was trying t stay out of his husbands way and annoy him as little as possible.

Snape being almost nice (for Snape) and even voluntarily touching him… it's just… it's big!

Turns out it can be an advantage, to have an intimidating ex-Death Eater who doesn't care for playing nice for a husband. The man has been intimidating young wizards and witches for about fifteen years and it shows.

Snape doesn't leave Harry's side. They sit at the table and more or less graciously accept congratulations (depends on who is doing the congratulating) and praise, but if anyone even tries to get too close or to touch Harry, they are glared at the way that makes the transgressor shiver and make themselves scarce.

Very soon, everybody realises that asking the Boy-Who-Lived-Again to dance is the wrong thing to do. Albus Dumbledore gives 'his boys' a reproachful look, after all they should be setting an example, but for once he is completely ignored. To Harry's relief, who is not much of a dancer and can't imagine himself waltzing with the Potions Master anyway and much less with anyone else.

Lately, the Headmaster has been acting strangely anyway. He has been giving him and Snape significant glances, talking in riddles, something about Gryffindor unity and Harry missing his friends. Whatever Dumbledore has been hinting at, Harry isn't getting it. And, honestly, he could not bring himself to care.

Hiding behind the table and his sullen husband is where Harry feels the most comfortable, if, as 'The Hero' he is forced to be present. Actually, Harry thinks that it's really nice. The boy feels safe and cared for. He likes the new, protective and caring (in his own way) Severus Snape. Likes him very much. So much that the boy feels his cheeks heating up as The Potions Master pours some water into his glass.

That night when they go to bed Snape is the first to fall asleep.

Harry turns towards the man, away from the built-in closet he usually faces, and looks at the man to whom he has been bonded for about seven months. Severus Snape looks very peaceful right now. Maybe he finally had gained some peace, with Voldemort's demise. That makes Harry's lips twitch a bit; it makes him feel good, that he had something to do with making it better for the man.

Severus' brows are dark, thin and arched; he has high cheekbones, long face, strong chin and pale complexion. And man's nose is just… very big. Nevertheless, strangely it suits him. There is something aristocratic about the Potions Master; Harry decides that the man looks impressive, almost regal. Snape is not pretty, not beautiful, but he is definitely handsome and has a strong presence. And smells good. Many mornings after waking up Harry had moved closer to Snape's side of bed and sniffed his pillow…

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, blushing furiously. What is he thinking? If Snape only knew!

**5.**

The school starts again. It doesn't worry Harry. His grades had been very good this year, since the boy has discovered that burying himself in studies is a very good way to take his mind off other things.

Harry holds his breath before the first Potions class since The Great Battle. He thinks they are getting on almost well these days. Snape does not seem so irritated with him and even does some little things that the young wizard cannot call anything else, but kind. He has not turned all Molly-Weasley sweet or chummy out of sudden, but Harry is not afraid of the man anymore and does not try to avoid his husband at all costs. He starts feeling comfortable being around the older wizard whom the boy keeps catching looking at him very strangely (Harry doesn't dare to say 'stare' even in his thoughts, since the Professor unlikely would appreciate if someone said that he has been staring).

But Harry doesn't mind. It is strange, because usually he hates when people ogle him. Snape, however… well, it feels like temperature increases threefold when the boy feels Snape's dark eyes on him, but somehow, he is all right with it.

Nonetheless, he is worried, because the Potions Class is where he usually is yelled at the most. Ron looks at his best friend worriedly. Harry tries a mile to calm the redhead, but doesn't quite manage. Ron reaches out and squeezes his hand under the table and Harry manages to smile for real. Ron had become very attentive to Harry since the Great Battle, as if he were trying to make up for something. Harry is not going to complain.

Professor Snape sweeps into the room, the black cloak billowing. The class grows silent immediately. He has trained them well. Harry squeezes his hands between his knees under the table to keep them from shaking. He does not want to be so nervous, but cannot help it. The anticipation is driving him crazy.

Harry can hardly breathe as the Potions Master spells the directions on the blackboard, then orders them to get the ingredients and stat working. Nothing so far. Harry desperately tries to ground the sunflower seeds and not pulverize them completely. He grips the pestle tighter afraid to drop it as he feels the familiar, dark shadow over him. God, but it's as if he has developed some kind of sixth-Snape sense, he is always aware of the man.

"Acceptable,"

Harry almost faints when he hears it. 'Acceptable'! It is like the highest prise from the stern Professor. More than Harry has ever hoped for. The boy lowers his head and lets the dark, messy bangs to fall over his face to hide that he's grinning like a loon.

When he looks up, Harry sees Ron looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He simply shrugs.

**6.**

Two nights later, it is again Snape, who falls asleep first. Harry had noticed that the other man had stopped coming to bed only after he has already fallen asleep and getting up before him. He isn't sure what to think about it. Harry is a bit wary, he does not dare to think too much of it, but cannot quit wondering if it is an offer of truce or something else…

The boy's eyes stop on Snape's hair. Raven black, next to Snape's it would be easy to tell that Harry's own hair is just very dark brown. It reaches just past man's shoulders and is very shiny. When he is so close, it is obvious that Snape's hair is not greasy at all, just very straight and smooth like water. That whole talk about greasiness, well, Harry thinks it is because when you really don't like someone you kind of find a lot of bad things to say about them. Besides, the same things that others think are nice about the person you might find distasteful. Like Weasley red hair and freckles.

Harry imagines that Snape's hair would be really nice to touch…

In a bout of Gryffindor-ish, recklessness, which the boy had not experienced for a very long time, he carefully pushes down his side of the duvet and sits up on his knees moving nearer to Snape's side of the bed and reaches for one of the dark strands, slowly and carefully…

"Eep!"

The Hero of the Wizarding World makes a very undignified sound as longer fingers close around his wrist… Harry has never noticed that his wrist is so narrow…

He is caught! What could be more embarrassing? The boy can't believe that he thought he would get away with it! Well, he wasn't thinking, clearly not, or he would have remembered that the man who was sleeping in the bed next to him was a former spy.

His blush puts a tomato to shame. Harry is sure about that. Still, he can't avert his eyes in shame; Snape's black ones are boring into his, sucking Harry's gaze into them like pools in a marsh a careless wanderer. He has been caught and is being kept captive. Snape keeps staring and Harry wonders what he sees, what he is looking for. Harry can hardly breathe and boy's traitorous heart once more has fled his chest and is frantically trying to crawl up his throat. And his cheeks… he is afraid that the blush will become permanent.

Harry bites his lip… the tension is getting unbearable. 'Come on, yell at me,' he wants to say. 'Just get over with it!'

Not even in his wildest dreams… Harry doesn't expect that Severus Snape will use the captured wrist to pull the boy on him. Harry gasps; looking down into the hypnotising eyes and just manages to steady himself by clutching at the man's shoulders with his small hands, when his lips are captured in a searing kiss.

A kiss that makes the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand up. A kiss that Severus somehow manages to dominate even from his position under the boy. A kiss that makes Harry's head spin. A kiss that makes him melt into the man's body as if he wanted to merge with it…

A kiss that leaves Harry hot and needy when it's over too soon and he is pushed off Snape, away, to his side of the too wide bed and the Potions Master stalks out of the bedroom.

A kiss that wakes such longing in him…

When Harry can think straight again, he wonders if he did something wrong. If his breath wasn't fresh enough or… he is really confused, because truly doesn't have much experience with kissing. The wet disaster with Cho does not count.

His thoughts are frantic. Running circles in his head, winding and unwinding everything that has happened, the words that have been said.

However, after some time exhaustion takes over and he falls asleep.

When Harry almost doesn't see his husband for the next three days, he really worries. The man doesn't even sleep in his own bed. Harry knows, because he is so worried that he doesn't sleep well himself. He thinks that maybe he should leave, because it is not fair that he has occupied the Potions Master's bed. After all, he doesn't need protection anymore. Voldemort is dead.

Besides, he has concluded that it is what Dumbledore has hinted at all the time. That Harry should return to his tower. The boy has been pretending not to understand.

Harry thinks that Snape is hiding in his office that might be a potions lab, or even both. He doesn't know, since he has been forbidden to go there.

In the evening of the fourth day, Harry can't stand it anymore. He has to know. If Snape has had enough of him and he wants the boy to leave, then he will leave. He can't live like this, he can't stand being kissed so nicely, so passionately and then ignored. Does he not deserve at least some clarity?

Tentatively the boy knocks on the door and waits. Nothing happens. He lets out a breath, takes another (a deep one) and knocks again.

When the door opens, Snape is standing on the other side of the threshold, looking at Harry down his nose, long arms crossed over his chest. Harry suddenly realises that since he is the one who knocked, he should also be the one to say something, which is hard, especially when the damned Master of occlumency is as unreadable as ever. He is well aware than Snape can hide his every emotion if he wants to.

Then Harry summons up his courage.

"If… if you want me to, I… I will leave," he gulps and is afraid to meet the man's eyes and see relief in them. "I mean, he's dead, right? Sir. I do not need anyone to protect me and you… well, you do not need me here too. I mean that if you don't want me he-here…" Harry's breathe catches, stumbles over the knot in his throat and there is nothing he can do, to stop the single, sad tear that rolls down his cheek.

The boy takes another deep breath: "I will go, if you don't want me."

When everything he wants to say is out, Harry lifts his chin and meets his so-called husband's eyes, trying to put up a brave front, in spite of his trembling lower lip.

Snape's arms are at his sides, clenched into white-knuckled fists, he looks menacing, and once again, Harry is afraid of the wizard. Only now Harry realises that Snape has never raised his hand to him.

However, Snape does not hit him. Instead, he crushes Harry against his chest.

"You imbecilic… you, little Gryffindor idiot," his breath is hot against Harry's ear and the arms hold him tight. "You can't imagine how much I want you… stupid, stupid…"

Soft lips caress the shell of Harry's ear and the boy rubs his cheek against the side of Snape's face that is a bit scratchy.

"How could I not want you…?" Snape mutters clutching the lithe body of his young husband. "I want you, want you too much… you can't imagine," the man lets out a shaky breath.

Gentle arms are running over Harry's body and he feels like… like flying for the first time, his stomach is doing somersaults, he is tingling all over.

"Severus…" the boy whimpers. "Severus…"

And he is swept up in strong arms and carried bridal style to their bedchamber. It is about fifteen paces, to cross their living room, for Harry. Much less for Snape. Very soon, Harry is deposited in the middle of the enormous bed and his husband's capable hands are unbuttoning his shirt while the man's mouth is feasting on Harry's lips.

Harry's own hands find their way into Severus' hair and cannot stop touching the silky strands that are as soft as he imagined. Severus' hands still at the button of Harry's jeans. He looks at the boy and asks if Harry is sure that he wants it.

Harry isn't, he still remembers the 'wedding night'. But he knows that this is different and knows that he can't show Severus his fear. Oh, the man looks like he wants to eat him alive and couldn't stop even if he wanted, the glazed over eyes look so funny, and Harry even feels it down there… but the young wizard has a suspicion that his husbands self-control might be just a tad stronger than his other… feelings. No, Harry is not going to show his uncertainty.

He might not be really ready yet, but Harry knows that if he would say 'no' now, there could never get there again. Therefore, Harry tells that part of him, which is doubtful to shut up and lets the one, that wants Severus Snape so much that it hurts, to do the talking.

"Please… yes…"

**7.**

Harry is warm and content when he wakes up the next morning. Enveloped in Severus' strong arms, he does not want to get up. The boy is sure that his husband has not changed his mind about them. Why would he? How could he? Still. The more he thinks the warier Harry gets. Snape is unpredictable like that. In fact, for Harry Snape is completely unpredictable.

The boy wonders, if it is possible to fall in love with someone one does not really know. Maybe now, they would talk more and he would get to know his husband? Or would it be presuming? He just desperately wanted to make this thing between them, work. Before the ceremony, Dumbledore told him that while they could take other lovers and live separately, a divorce was not an available option, if the couple was bonded the way they were – magically.

It seemed like the right thing to do. To make their marriage work, not to pull other people into relationship that could never be formalised. After the last night, Harry was hopeful.

And, indeed, he was not turned down. When Severus wakes up, he cards his long fingers through the boy's mess of hair and gently kisses the young man on his temple. Smile tuggs at the corners of Harry's lips. Severus Snape does not smile though. Harry thinks that for a moment he sees guilt in the man's midnight eyes.

Harry does not want Snape to feel guilty about anything, but he is not sure if he should say anything. He reaches out to caress Severus' scratchy cheek with his fingertips. They look at each other for a moment, then Severus sighs and pecks Harry on the tip of his nose.

"Go, use the bathroom, Harry," the older wizard orders and Harry does, thinking that it is still better than it was before.

And as days pass, the boy does not change his mind about it. Even if Severus avoids him during the day and refuses to look at him during the class. Harry understands; it must be awkward, to teach your own husband, or to be married to your student or to share the bed with someone you have seen grow up.

Not that anyone would ever try to accuse the Hogwarts Potions Master of favouritism. Unlikely. After the news about their marriage got out, The Prophet managed to accuse Snape of pretty much everything. Harry is quite sure that no one dared to say that the professor favoured him in the classroom.

No, the man didn't play favourites. At least not towards Harry. It still stings a bit, that Severus coddles Slytherins and especially Malfoy and is so unkind to Harry. But the boy tries to understand.

And, yes, even if Severus is somewhat distant during the day, every night the man joins him in their chambers, in their bed, and makes love to his young husband. 'Makes love'… Harry would never dare to call it in that word aloud, but he calls it that in his mind. The other terms all seem kind of crude and he kind of loves Severus anyway.

Harry is happier than ever.

Everyone is noticing it. Harry smiles more often, eats more and even looks positively radiant. He finds that it is easier to get on with other people and he is not so wary of them anymore. Neville becomes one of his favourite people, because he is just so undemanding and really relaxing to be around. The boy even talks Harry into helping him in the greenhouse. Neville is very serious about Herbology and is planning to do something with plants after Hogwarts. Harry thinks he will be good at it, certainly and digging in dirt is somewhat therapeutic.

Ron is very happy for him as well and spends more time with Harry, because (unbelievably) he breaks up with Hermione. Ron is very reluctant to talk about it. they never actually talk about those things, because they are both guys… or, maybe, just because Ron is not into talking about his feelings, because it makes him uncomfortable, and Harry is not into talking about his feelings, because the things he would have said would be too… too much. And he doubts that the redhead wants to hear about Snape anyway.

But in the end, Ron gets over his manliness and admits that he was the one who didn't want to date Hermione anymore, because they were fighting all the time and because she is so much smarter than he is, maybe. Not that he minds, if his girlfriend has more brains than he does. Ron just hated to be constantly reminded about it.

"All the nagging…" the tall boy grumbles. God, but he has grown so much, Harry feels like a little kid in the presence of his best friend.

"It is kind of, Ok, if she is a friend, you know? But for a girlfriend or something more... Seriously, mate, I doubt I could put up with it for the rest of my life. She reminds me of Mum too much." Ron shudders. And Harry understands. While Mrs. Weasley can be very nice with her motherly ways, but only in small dosages. Overbearing she is, that for sure.

They are sitting on the rug by the fireplace with a chessboard between them. Then suddenly Ron catches Harry's hand on its way to pick up a piece, to make his move.

"Harry…" he says looking in his best friends eyes. "I am happy that you are all right, Ok. Very happy. I thought… well, I guess, everyone thought, but I am so happy that we were wrong. So relieved. It's stupid, but I realised, how much you mean to me, when I thought that you were… gone. Bollocks! It takes something like that to realise how much you mean to us… to me."

Harry smiles. It's sweet.

Then the redhead does the strangest thing. He pulls Harry closer and kisses him on the lips. It's a sweet kiss, just lips. It is intimate, but there is nothing sexual in it. And when Ron embraces Harry and says he loves him, Harry understands him perfectly and answers with the same.

They are both alive and young and full of love. And they are going to stay best friends forever.

And there is Severus. He finally has someone. Severus Snape is his!

Yes, Harry really is happier than he has been for long time. Maybe ever.

**8.**

Something is not right. Harry tries to shrug off that feeling, but can't. He feels that something is wrong.

Severus is cold.

When he looks at Harry, the boy feel chilled to the bone. He wants to ask, what is wrong, if something has happened. But doesn't dare. He never dares, because they don't talk much. Snape is not much of a talker. He orders Harry to do things. Yells at him (well, not anymore, but used to). And sometimes, he whispers on Harry's ear, how beautiful he is, when they make love.

And that is it. Harry thinks that there are like thousand things they should discuss, but what they have… well, it's so fragile, the bond between them. He is afraid to do anything to endanger it. Only, sometimes he feels like he is afraid to breathe, as if anything could disturb the peace.

And apparently, something has.

Severus has not touched him for three nights.

It makes Harry to feel almost sick. Like his skin is covered with cold, sticky sweat, but underneath.

Foreboding.

He tries to ignore it. Tries really hard, but there is something big between them and it is not going away.

Finally, Harry decides to seek his husband out. He had learned that the Potions Master has a habit of staying in the classroom to correct the essays and tests. Especially when he is trying to avoid Harry.

The boy thinks that the Potions classroom might be kind of a neutral territory. They really, really should talk.

He walks down the corridor and stops at the classroom door. He does not think about knocking, it is a classroom after all, public space of sorts, and gently pushes the door. It opens softly, without making a sound. There is no creak echoing in the dungeons.

Harry stifles a laugh at the thought.

The boy peeks around the doorframe and…

He suddenly feels like he would never, ever want to laugh again.

Oh, God! Harry blinks, and blinks again. No! No! No! His mind is screaming. Harry doesn't believe his eyes. He almost falls back from the door with his back again the opposite wall of the corridor. No! Please, no…

But Harry knows that his eyes could not be lying, it does not happen like that.

Harry chokes on his tears as he is running back to their… to Snape's rooms. He just makes it to the bathroom, falls down on his knees and throws up in the toilet bowl. Harry shakes his head furiously blinking. He wants to erase the image from his eyes. The image of his husband, Severus Snape fucking Draco Malfoy over one of the front row desks.

Why… How? How could Severus do that to him? Harry has always thought that the man is unpleasant, antisocial, complicated…. Well, that he had obviously had hard life and become that way… But Harry has always thought that Severus Snape is honourable. Where it counts.

Harry cannot accept it, that Severus would… no…

Bet then… Draco Malfoy is his complete opposite. He is blond, with aristocratic features, perfect hair, and flawless skin. People call him the Slytherin prince and even some more interesting names. He is confident and knows his worth. Malfoy knows that he is gorgeous and even Harry must admit, that he almost radiates sexuality. And he is a Slytherin and good at the potions.

And who is Harry? What is so special about him after all? Except that, he manages to stay alive and even that is not something he can take all the credit for.

What does he have on Malfoy? He is short, scrawny, and near-sighted. His hair is a mess, a disaster. He is somewhat messed up and a Gryffindor. Moreover, he is James Potter's son. He should not be surprised that Snape has chosen Malfoy over him.

Nevertheless, it hurts. It hurts so fucking much! And they are married and Harry does not deserve to be treated that way! And he is sad, angry, and miserable…

Why? Why don good things do not last for him? Sirius… he has lost Sirius… and now Snape… no, but he never had Snape, so he could not loose him. Harry was deluding himself.

But no matter what, he hasn't done anything to deserve such treatment. To be betrayed like this. And with Malfoy of all the people… he can just imagine the blonde bastard laughing at his expense.

Harry suddenly feels so fed up, with everything, with everyone. He is fed up with their prise and their slander. He has had enough of being the Hero and the whipping boy, depending on the moods of the public. What is there for him? What does he have of his own? What is there for him to hold on?

Weasleys are actually Ron's, not his. Remus still belongs to Sirius' and to his pain and his curse. Ron… soon Ron will find a witch that will not nag him and will want to be hers. And magic, well, magic actually doesn't mean that much to him, not enough to make him happy. And his fame is not even worth mentioning. Harry hates his fame, even Snape, who enjoyed to taunt the boy with it, would grudgingly admit it now. It's that obvious.

Snape. Snape. Snape. Severus Snape.

To think that Harry went along with everything Dumbledore told him to do. That he forgave the man his taunting and bullying. Probably, because in his heart he felt like he deserved all of it. As his punishment. For Sirius. But who was Snape to judge him to punish him? He has done worse, he's… Harry dry heaves. His stomach is empty, there is nothing inside that could come out anymore, but thinking about Snape with Malfoy, bent over the table, groaning, grunting, with his cock buried… it gives Harry cramps, it makes him sick.

He tried so hard. Harry tried to be there for his husband, to make it work. He wished for it so much. But Snape, Snape threw it all back in his face. He desecrated Harry's efforts, his sacrifices. God, but Harry hates the man. Really hates him now.

The pain and anger is twisting the boy's stomach.

He hates them all. Dumbledore for using him for his 'Greater Good'. Harry is not stupid; he knows what he has been for the Headmaster. Lately he had been able to think about things more clearly and his eyes have opened. He knows he has been used. Maybe Dumbledore did not have much choice; maybe it had to been done.

Harry could forgive the old wizard that. Nevertheless, he cannot forgive being kept in the dark; he cannot forgive not being given a choice. He cannot forgive Sirius' death. He cannot forgive the Dursleys. Now, he cannot forgive the man for marrying him off to Snape. It is just a bit too much. Too many 'mistakes' made at his expense. Harry does not believe they were accidental anymore.

And who said that he has to forgive? Why wouldn't he hold a grudge, just because he wants to?

He can't stay here. He has to get out. Hogwarts could have collapsed around him, that is what it feels like now.

Harry does not need much time to prepare, because he does not need much, not where he is going. He takes his old, scruffy schoolbag, stuffs his invisibility cloak, his photo album, some clothes and other necessities in it, and hides it under the bed. Then he gets ready for bed as usually.

The boy actually gets under the covers a bit earlier than usually; deluding himself, hoping that he would fall asleep before Snape returns. No such luck. He is a nervous wreck by the time he felt the other side of the bed dip. The boy pretends to be asleep, chewing on the sleeve of his cotton pyjamas to stop himself from starting to scream.

Harry is not sure, if it works.

He almost can't stop himself from showing any reaction as he feels something softly touch his hair. It is there and then it is gone. Harry wants to jump up and shout at the man. How dares he to touch him with the same hands that have been pawing Malfoy mere hours ago! He fights back the angry tears; Harry's eyes were red already from all the crying.

**9.**

It is easy.

Harry has a feeling that any moment now someone will stop him as he is walking towards the Hogwart's main door, hidden under his Invisibility cloak. But it doesn't happen. Not many are awake so early in the Saturday morning and those who are, he can easily avoid.

Harry does look back at the first place he has ever called 'home'. Then he turns his back to the old castle and strolls down the path towards Hogsmeade. He walks through the town still quite fascinated by what he sees. Every place makes him remember something or someone.

He is kind of saying goodbye.

However, when the boy reaches the outskirts of the village, he realises that he has no idea where to go from there. He doesn't have anywhere to go. Besides it is not easy to get anywhere from there if you are not a wizards. The lake on the one side and the Forbidden forest and mountains on the other side surround the school and the village. The town is a dead end as far as Harry knows.

One cannot get far on their feet, without using some form of magical transportation. Harry suddenly realises that he hasn't thought this through at all. He should have taken his broom at least, but he thought he couldn't take anything so large… he can't take the Knight Bus, someone would recognise him and they would know where he has gone. Should he go back into the village and find a fireplace?

He doesn't know, he has no idea, after all there isn't actually any place the boy really wants to go, he just needs somewhere away, safe and quiet, where he could carry out what he had decided to… for some reason Harry can't do it at Hogwarts… no, no, no! He can't go back, can't return to the place where no one really wants him, where he is just under they feet, where people whom he trusts, whom he loves, keep hurting him. Harry can't just stay there and wait for the next blow.

The boy closes his eyes. He doesn't want to cry now. He has to think. But doesn't quite manage; Harry is too upset.

And then suddenly it almost strikes him. He sees it in front of his closed eyes. The forest, the clearing, the small lake, where he met his parents and Sirius… that is the only place, where he wants to be more than anywhere. He needs to be there. The boy almost doubles over as the longing rocks his small body.

He falls on his knees. He takes a deep breath. Brushes the wetness off his face with his sleeve and opens his eyes… He is kneeling in soft moss, the air around him smell like it and putrescent leaves and pine needles… or something like that. Harry has grown up in suburbs of London after all and every time he had ventured into the Forbidden Forest the boy has had too many other things on his mind and no time to stop and smell the flowers, or moss.

When he lifts his eyes, Harry sees the same lake in front of him that he was imagining a moment ago. But he's not dead yet, so… so, the place must exist in the real world somewhere and somehow he had gotten himself there. Harry didn't use his wand, he doesn't really know, how to apparate yet, so… Not that he cares what he has done, as long as some Ministry wizard doesn't come and arrest him for using underage magic. He has a feeling that they will not; that what he did will not be traceable to them.

He gets comfortable in the moss on the bank of the lake.

Harry sits there for hours, watching the water, enjoying caress of the sun on his face and letting his thoughts drift.

But as the sun goes down, it starts getting colder and he gets up and looks around. There is something beyond the trees, something that Harry didn't notice when he was here for the first time. When he was sort of dead. It is a hut that instantly reminds Harry of Hagrid, he has to take a deep breath to quell the thought.

The door creaks as Harry pushes it open. It is obvious that no one has lived there for some time. The dust tickles boy's nose and he sneezes.

He looks around. There is only one room. The house is kind of shabby, but would be nice, if someone cleaned the small cabin and lit the fireplace. But Harry isn't planning to stay here for long. He has somewhere to be.

The boy takes the bag and empties it on the table. He is not sure why he took all those closes with him anyway. He is not going to need them where he is going. What he is looking for clatters as it falls on the wooden surface.

Harry thinks it is a beautiful piece, old fashioned. He took it from the bathroom cabinet after Snape did his morning routine, in case the man really used it. He personally thinks that anything would be more convenient than the old-fashioned razor, but no one could accuse his husband of taking the easy way or being convenient…

Harry bangs his fist against the table. He has no husband! No husband!

And it hurts so bloody much…

Probably that is why using the razor for what he has in mind, does not faze the boy much. Nothing could hurt him more than Severus Snape's betrayal now.

"Goodbye," he says to no one.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Please let me know, what you think. I have finished the story, but I am going to post it in parts to see, what people think of this and make adjustments, so please give me your opinion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Sacrifices Betrayals Love and Foolishness

**Word Count:** 35,000

**Chapters**: 2/4

**Genre**: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing**: Harry/Snape, Snape/?

**Summary**: Harry and Snape are forced to marry and it doesn't really work out that well. Harry is depressed, Snape is stubborn, and everyone else is selfish. HP/SS, slash, mpreg, A/U

**Setting:** After The Order of The Phoenix and the Department of Mysteries. Harry has just turned sixteen.

**Rating**: Nothing too terrible, a bit of sex a bit of depressive themes.

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), OOC, A/U, non-canon, angsty, emotional, dubious consent(somewhat), male pregnancy is more than just mentioned, not beta-edited, may seem disturbing, door-mat-ish Harry, some grammar errors.

* * *

…**Betrayals…**

**1.**

The Headmaster never fails to remind Severus of his crimes. Then he reminds of his promises.

In the end, Severus does whatever he is being asked to do.

A part of him is aware, that if Severus simply did as he has been told, it would save them both a lot of time, because in the end he always agrees anyway. He is Dumbledore's man as long as the Dark Lord lives.

It's just that… he hates feeling so powerless!

"You are one of the most stubborn men I have ever known," Albus Dumbledore says and Severus is not sure if he should object, because… well, he is not keen on agreeing with something like that! Or maybe he should agree to prove the old man wrong, to prove that he is not stubborn an is ready to concede.

Quite a clinch it is.

Clinch, like his whole life, like his arrangement with the Headmaster who always gets Snape to comply with his wishes.

This time however, he doesn't let them to convince him easily.

"There must be another way!" Severus spits furiously and somewhat desperately.

"This is the best solution under the circumstances," The Headmaster is calm and unruffled. As if he knows that, he will win the argument.

Not without a cause. He does win the argument after all.

Albus points out that since Severus can't serve them as a spy anymore, keeping Harry safe is the least he can do. Yes, Severus understands what he means very well. They have no use for him if he doesn't do this. He has to agree.

Then Albus plays his last card: "Severus, my boy. You must realise that this union might not be lasting."

Severus turns his head sharply to look at the old wizard. Albus Dumbledore looks appropriately saddened. Yes, indeed, Potter might be dead by this time the next year. Severus is not one to underestimate The Dark Lord. The boy is marked for death. He is not a delusion as the old men and his motley band of Gryffindors and other fools.

For a moment, maybe only a half of a second (you have to be know the man very well to notice) Severus' shoulders slump, before squaring out again and he nods without saying a word.

That is how Severus Snape agrees to marry Harry Potter.

He is going to become Potter's new 'family' and his guard. It doesn't matter if Severus thinks that Albus' is being ridiculous by insisting that Potter is going to play a crucial role in winning the war. The time must have addled the old coot's brain. Potter junior is twice the idiot his father was.

But of course, he doesn't have all of the information. Only the Headmaster himself knows everything that is going on. He says they can't risk someone vulnerable knowing.

True.

As a spy, Severus was vulnerable. He is not a spy anymore, but that of course doesn't mean that there is not another reason why he is not to be trusted with everything. There is always a reason for Severus not to be trusted.

"Do your part, Severus, keep Harry safe, that's all you have to worry about," Albus smiles and pops a lemon drop in his mouth.

His part. How can he forget his part?

And all of it could be avoided if only Potter knew how to keep his big mouth shut. But that would be too much to ask of the brat, considering whose son he is. No, he has to throw a fit and repudiate his family! No matter what the consequences are. Imbecile.

It is all Potter's fault.

Severus would have never thought that one day he will hate the son more than the father, but his wedding day might have been the one.

However, he is surprised when Potter himself is not protesting much. He would have thought that the twerp would be kicking and screaming. No such thing happens. Which annoys Severus greatly. Why does nothing happen as expected with Harry Potter?

Severus observes the boy. Subdued. No, subdued doesn't quite cut it. Potter looks half-dead, almost catatonic. He stares at the walls, tables and all kinds of other inanimate objects not seeing them at the same time. Every time he looks at Potter, it ruins the glee he felt after realising that he would never have to look at Blacks ugly mug again.

Severus swears that he will not sympathise with Potter. He has everyone's sympathies already. Everyone is so sorry that the boy has lost his godfather and that he has to marry his old, greasy Potions professor. No one offers Severus any condolences. All he gets is sidelong glances and some reluctant 'thankyous'.

He wants to smack Lupin, the damned coward when he expresses his gratitude. If he had ever cared for the boy, he would have stayed around or at least returned to Britain sooner and at least checked on the brat. Oh, woe, thy name is Lupin!

The man is acting as if he is the only one, who has had a hard time. Severus would like to introduce him to the Dark Lord or his magic hating father, whom he doesn't remember ever seeing sober.

Severus hates hypocrites more than he hates villains. And that is exactly what most of them are. They say that they care for the boy, but they will sacrifice him as soon as they will have the need.

Severus is used to Albus' rhetoric and his sugarcoating. He is **very** good at reading between the lines. He doesn't even look at Potter during the ceremony. He knows that he shouldn't get used to seeing him. Harry Potter is as good as dead anyway.

The Potions Master scowls at the Weasleys and all the other ingrates that he is being forced to associate with. They are turning into a party something that shouldn't be celebrated no matter from which viewpoint one looks at it. Surely, not many of The Order had ever shown him proper respect. However, those exact people are the ones who test his patience during the numerous Order meetings wailing about 'that poor boy'.

And today they have audacity and bad taste to celebrate this farce of a marriage.

Severus would be the last one to defend the brat, but he **really** hates hypocrites. Are they trying to pretend that it is a good thing? That they are not ruining the boy's life?

Of course, it doesn't look like Potter himself cares much.

What Potter is doing… well, it goes way beyond moping.

It strangely makes Severus even more furious, but then, what doesn't? It would be more satisfying if Potter was his usual obstinate self, if he could see those green eyes blaze, have them burn with anger. He wants to see Potter's hate. He needs it!

He wants to be the one, who is on Potter's mind. It is **his** wedding day! No matter, that it is as twisted as it can get, Snape loathes Potter for thinking about Black as their hands and lives are tied together forever.

He is not even there. The ungrateful whelp!

No words would be enough to express, how much Severus hates all the Potters and Blacks. Oh, and the Weasleys. And their cosy, little hovel.

A part of Severus wants to get out of here as soon as the ceremony is over. Before he kills a Weasley, or better two. Who would notice, when there are so many of them and at least two look identical?

The other side knows very well, what he is going to be forced to do tonight.

While Severus cannot swear that he has never found any of his students attractive in a general, abstract way, he can swear, that he has never acted on such impulses.

Even if it were not Potter, but someone else, if for a moment he pretended that the boy's name was Jack, Paul, Andy… even then Snape wouldn't have thought about touching him. Potter is too young and looks even younger. Disturbing doesn't cut it.

Besides, it is not some Jack, John, or Andy. He has gone over the list of the reasons not to touch Potter for hundreds of time since he has been informed of his impending matrimony.

Severus absolutely refuses to fuck the boy… only, he can't refuse. Of course.

He wants to tell Potter that. That he would not touch the boy under different circumstances even if they were the last two human beings on the earth. He wants to let him know how ugly and repulsive he finds Potter.

Stupid, stupid, moronic boy!

Severus is so lost in thought that remembers about the real Potter only when he reaches his rooms. He is relieved to see that Potter has not gotten lost somewhere in the halls of Hogwarts.

He wants to delay the culmination of the _wedding night_ as long as possible, so

he lists everything Potter is not allowed to do while abiding in his rooms. When he finishes, the Potions Master has a feeling that he has forgotten something. Surely there are more ways Potter could cause a mayhem, which he should anticipate and try preventing.

Nevertheless, he can't think of anything else, which only means that he should be getting ready for the bed.

"Damn you to Hell, Albus," Severus swears staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He should look carefully, since the man doubts that he will be able to look himself in the eye come morning.

Then Severus scolds himself for childishness and chooses business-like approach. He is doing his duty.

He walks back to the living room and orders the boy to clean up. Severus pours himself two fingers of Ogden's and empties it in one gulp. Then he waits. Then he hears the bathroom door open.

He walks into the bedroom and… Bloody Hell… the boy… no, the child… Severus is going to be sick. There, standing in front of him is a child. Scrawny, pale and awkward. Dressed in oversized pyjamas, which look like they could have belonged to his father… fuck…, fucking… now is not the time to think about the Potter senior!

The boy has taken off the glasses and the green eyes are so huge and… and… bloody innocent! Severus thinks he would choke on the word if he ever tried to say it or he would get blasted off this earth by some supreme power.

Or not.

Whoever is in charge of all this circus seems to have rather high tolerance for all kind scum. Those are always innocents, who should beware.

Snape wants to scream, to curse someone, to apparate in front of the Dark Lord and strangle the thing!

He can't show the boy that he is… what? Severus is not sure, what. But he can't let it show. It would only make everything more painful.

"Get into the bed," he orders.

Surprisingly Potter does. But it is not enough. It is never enough.

He orders the boy to drop his trousers and lie face down.

Severus hates to admit that it unnerves him greatly when Potter still is not kicking and screaming. It is a relief that he is reluctant. At least.

The speech about getting over with it takes Severus' mind of the task at hand at least a little bit.

The paling of Potter's face puts it right back on it.

Unforgivable! Severus' behaviour is appalling. He shouldn't have allowed himself to get this emotional over this!

He has a task at hand.

He still is not sure, how to go about it. Well, of course Severus knows very well, **how**, but… he needs to be aroused, but he refuses to use the sight of Potter's coffee and cream coloured, naked skin and small, perfectly rounded buttocks for that purpose. Severus absolutely refuses!

But then, it's kind of ridiculous to stand there with eyes closed, frantically trying to imagine someone else to get in the mood for Potter and try to resist the image of the boy that he can see in front of his eyes even when they are closed… totally ridiculous! God, but Snape hates the brat…

Nonetheless, he can't take the boy in anger.

Severus might be a cruel man, but there are lines that he has never crossed. Of course, tonight he is practically erasing them!

What does it matter that Potter has technically agreed to the marriage? It does not change the fact that Snape knows very well – Potter does not want to be buggered by him. Just because the boy is acting like an inferius does not mean anything.

Severus is aware that Albus is seizing the opportunity, that if Black weren't dead, if Potter was himself, this wouldn't be happening.

However, Potter just lies there, like a log… except he is not a log, not a doll and that makes this a rape and Severus a rapist, bordering on a paedophile.

The Potions Master does not care for euphemisms and sugarcoating. But he has no choice. Does he?

Severus opens his eyes and climbs on the bed with a jar of lube. The least he can do is to take care.

**2.**

Severus makes sure to wake up before Potter and to go to the bed after Potter falls asleep. He is trying to fool himself, pretend that the brat is not really there, that they are not married, and that he has never touched the boy. Of course it is not working, very well, because sometimes it seems like Potter is everywhere he goes.

It annoys the last dregs of sanity out of him.

There are Potter's scruffy gold and red slippers by his bed; there is Potter's towel in his bathroom, Potter's dreadful clothes in his closet, and Potter's scent on his linens… not to mention Potter himself lying by his side.

Theirs couldn't have been like any other marriage of convenience – an alliance of power and money. Oh, no! They can't risk the protective magic deciding that he and Potter are not a family, so the least they can do is sleep next to each other every night.

He wonders if Lily Potter has any idea, what she has condemned her son to.

While Severus has always found it irritating to have the Potter brat as his pupil, having him as his spouse is simply driving the man up the wall.

And then the brat makes tea of _friar's cap_. It drives Severus frantic, when he imagines what could have happened if Potter hadn't decided to share. He would have been dead!

Severus does the only thing he can think about; he yells at the boy. Lets him know what he really thinks about Potter, insults his intelligence and common sense in all the possible ways.

"You little moron! Have you learnt nothing in my lessons! Were you trying to kill us both? Was it some kind of Potteresque version of Romeo and Juliet? What were you thinking!"

There!

But the boy just keeps staring at him with unfocused, unseeing green eyes that for some reason makes Severus think of the muggle traffic lights.

That's just it. That is what Snape hates the most about Potter these days. Not his father, not his devotion to Black or the fact that the brat is a Gryffindor. He hates the apathy, indifference to everything. It bites. It bites because Snape would have never imagined that he would miss Potter's spunk, the fire the teenager was carrying inside him, the rebelliousness.

But it is all gone. Potter is a shell, an inferi. He could be an animated corpse as well.

Severus yells at the boy. Shouts at him. Calls him names. Pairs him with Malfoy, who is itching to get under Potter's skin and actually manages, after giving Severus studied coy glances as if he was expecting to receive his appreciation.

The Potions Master tries everything, EVERYTHING he can to wake the boy up from the bloody enchanted sleep he has slipped into!

He abuses the boy every way possible, short of slapping him. Mostly during the classes though.

Because doing such thing in their rooms seems too… he just can't. It reminds Severus of the way his father treated his mother. Anyway, it is not that what he is doing is helping. It is not. No matter how loud Severus shouts at the boy, it only earns him disapproving looks from Minerva McGonagall.

And then Severus realises that it might be for the best. That maybe… Potter probably will not survive The Dark Lord anyway…

And that only makes him angrier. Makes him hate Potter more. And The Dark Lord and Dumbledore and the man in the mirror.

Knowing that the boy doesn't care for staying alive is not going to make Severus to feel better about sacrificing him. Should he, along with Potter's protectors, take pride in making a child want to voluntary give up his life?

**3.**

Everything comes to what it was supposed to come. The great finale.

The predestined collusion of the Light and the Dark. The prophesied confrontation. The Boy Who Lived against the Dark Lord. The Boy Who Lived… Yes, even Severus Snape has to agree, that the title has certain ring to it. But the real person behind the name?

Severus knows that person. A mere boy, a child, who sleeps next to him every night.

Severus knows The Dark Lord as well. A monster who has no heart, who knows no mercy, who does not care for morality or anything at all beyond his power and hate, who enjoys pain and misery.

And they want to put an untrained, unstable child against the most powerful dark wizard since Grindewald.

The more Severus thinks about it, the more it troubles him, the less sense all of it makes to him.

He has never really cared, never allowed himself to dwell on the issue of Potter and his destiny.

"_oh, Severus, you like to make things complicated for yoursel__f, don't you?_

Shut up Regulus. That is Severus' retort at the time.

"_I know, I know, honey, you can't help yourself,"_

Severus still scowls when one piece or another of Regulus Black's dubious wisdom returns to haunt him like a ghost from the past in that very popular muggle story about the man who didn't like Christmas he disliked even as a child.

It is ridiculous. Wisdom and Regulus Black should never share the same sentence. Regulus is the silliest, most absurd creature he has ever known after all. But still, his words are the ones that keep pursuing him.

It has taken years for Severus to admit that Regulus might have had a point and once again he is complicating things for himself. He lets a curse escape through his gritted teeth, but it doesn't help, does it? Some thoughts, some realizations are like fiendfyre – relatively easy to start, but impossible to stop.

Severus is making things complicated for himself once again.

"Trust me, my boy," Albus Dumbledore says the same words that Severus hears every time he withholds the information, every time he doesn't want to explain something. Then he goes on about the power of love and declares that everything is going to be all right.

All right for whom? That is the question. For the Wizarding world, for the Order of the bloody Phoenix? For Potter? Is it going to be all right for Potter too?

"Trust me, my boy,"

Once Severus has trusted the Headmaster, his Mentor, and the man who has helped him out when the young Death Eater in need.

He is not sure anymore.

Every time Severus Snape looks at the skinny, apathetic creature the sixteen years old child who has been forced to become his husband, Severus' trust diminishes. The boy is so broken.

So little in Harry Potter reminds him of James or Lily anymore.

Some days Severus finds it unbearable, to look at the boy. He locks himself in his laboratory just to avoid seeing the miserable creature. Other days he simply wants to take Potter and run with him far, far away.

The feeling is especially strong the night before the Final Battle. It gets stronger when Potter returns from the Headmaster's office after having a talk with Albus. As often, Severus is not privy to the details, but it is obvious that they have discussed Harry's role in the whole madness.

Severus studies the boy when he returns to their rooms. Potter looks resigned. Resigned to whatever fate will decide for him. The potion Master doesn't like it. As he sees it, the boy should be full of determination, Gryffindor foolhardiness that they call 'courage'. He should be ready to fight.

And then Severus realises it. Harry Potter doesn't look ready to fight. The boy looks ready to die.

The realisation punches Snape in the gut. Hard. That moment the wish to take Potter away from all of this, to save the boy is stronger than ever…

But he is a Slytherin. He knows how to pick his fights. He is no Saviour. Potter is their Saviour. He is destined to save them all. For the Greater good. And Severus can't do anything to stop it.

And why would he care at all!

The boy is a Potter, James Potter's son, the boy who still grieves for Sirius Black, the boy who will always care for Sirius Black more than for… No, Severus doesn't give a damn about what will happen to Harry Potter.

Still, he can't help, but hate Albus Dumbledore and the Greater Good with passion that only a Slytherin can master.

Severus is up with dawn. The weather is inappropriately good. It would have been a nice day if none knew that some of them were going to die. But then, Severus muses, some of them most likely doesn't. Like the whole bunch of idealistic Gryffindors who believe in courage, loyalty, love and happy endings.

Severus is made of different dough.

He is ready for whatever is coming. Not that there is much that makes Severus to hold on his life. He is going to do his duty and then… nothing will matter afterwards. Anyway, Severus is unsure if he will be able to go on living after completing the task Albus Dumbledore has entrusted him with.

He looks at the boy. Pale as snow, the Avada Kedavra green eyes most amazing he had ever seen even in their dullness. His plump lower lip chewed red, as if Potter were eating strawberries. The thick, dark hair sticking out in every direction, but making the boy even more appealing. It reminds him of the old tale and for a moment Severus wonders if Lily Potter once sat gazing out the window, wishing she could have a child with skin as white as snow, hair as dark as charcoal and lips as red as blood.

It is ridiculous of course. Potter is so pale because he doesn't do more than nibble on his food lately, his hair is so dark, because he is James Potter's son and lips so red, because the idiot child abuses them mercilessly.

Severus wonders, what makes vulnerability so alluring for him. Does he really want someone to need him that much?

But then he shakes his head, to get all the foolish thoughts out of it. He thinks of James Potter and Sirius Black. He will be damned the day he will admit that he finds Harry Potter beautiful beyond reason.

Severus tightens his grip on the boy's arm and fights his way through the battlefield with only one purpose – to get Harry Potter to The Dark Lord. Snape's consciousness is screaming at him, it is not stupid enough not to know that he is delivering a sacrifice. But Severus keeps going and dragging the boy along. He has no choice, he hates it, but that doesn't matter here and now.

Everything happens so fast. Albus strikes down Nagini. Severus is engaged in a duel with Bellatrix, who as one of the most faithful hates traitors with passion. Only her 'passion' is more like 'madness' and that is her undoing. The way she fights, with force and fervour, but little sense is disgustingly Gryffindor and while it might work against one of them, someone who can keep his head during a duel (like Snape) pitilessly exploits all the mistakes the witch makes when she looses her temper.

While Severus duels Lestrange, Potter and The Dark Lord find each other. Severus wants to scream, to yell at the boy, he can't bear to see Harry simply standing there, not doing anything, listening to whatever nonsense the Monster is spilling over him. But it's as if Severus has lost his voice, stuck in the moment. He simply stands there and watches the green light erupt from The Dark Lord's wand and hit Harry's chest. Time stops for Severus then and he watches in slow motion as Harry falls down on the dirty ground.

Severus really doesn't care that Ron Weasley grabs the Sorting hat from Headmaster's hands, pulls the Godric's sword out of it and drives it right through the Dark Lord's chest while he is still too dazed and too busy gloating over his victory to notice anything around him.

The only one Severus sees is Harry, the beautiful, fragile, brave, broken Harry…

Completely ignoring the battle that is ceasing, since the most of the Death Eaters are apparating away, Severus runs, stumbling over the dead bodies and lost wands.

He has to get to Harry. The boy does not deserve to stay there, laying in the mud and blood.

He falls down on his knees next to the small body, which looks so out of place there, with so much blood and violence around it. Harry's eyes are closed already, he looks peaceful, asleep and so pure… the perfect sacrifice…

Severus snarls at whoever tries to approach him. They gave him the boy. Harry is his and they have no right to demand him back now. Severus is the one who carries the boy back to the castle, which for the first time in Severus' life doesn't feel like home.

Severus lays Harry onto one of the beds in the Hospital Wing and no one dares to object that the beds are for the alive and there is the floor of the Great Hall for the dead. A good thing, because if someone commented on that, there might have been one more dead body on the stone floor.

Severus has failed. The boy has been given to him to keep him safe and now he is lying there… he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"You did well, my boy," Albus says. "It was the only way…"

Severus shrugs off the old man's hand. He doesn't care if the Headmaster is right, Severus is a Slytherin and Slytherins are selfish, they don't care if the world collapses around them as long as they get their hearts desire.

He reaches out and does something he failed to do when Harry was alive – Severus holds the boy's hand. He rubs the top of the small, soft palm with his fingers. It is pointless, of course, because whatever he would do, Harry's hands will not get warmer.

Severus does it, because he needs it.

And then he feels it. The pulse.

**4.**

Severus watches over Potter for two more days. He conjures a chair next to the boy's bed and does not leave it until he wakes. For a man who has been around magic for his whole life, Snape has a little faith in miracles. But what has happened to Potter, if not a miracle?

Severus is unsure how he feels about it. Relieved? Happy? He has let the boy down after all, hasn't he? This could be a chance to make it up to Potter… Of course, the boy has not wakened yet, but The Potions Master somehow knows that he will, if he is still breathing when he should be dead already.

Albus Dumbledore calls together his Order.

For the last time, he claims. Severus is somewhat sceptical about that. After all, before Voldemort there was Grindewald, before Grindewald there was Medici and so on. The question is not if a new Dark Lord is going to rise, but when. Nonetheless, it is not going to be Severus' problem. His debt ends with the death of Tom Riddle.

The Headmaster finally explains some of the goings on, most of the involved find out for the first time, what role they had played in the downfall of The Dark Lord. He explains about horcruxes and thanks everyone who has helped to gather and destroy them; he reveals that Potter's scar has been one of them. Most of the present, the majority of them Gryffindors, decide that the Headmaster has known all along that, their Boy-Who-Lived will keep doing just that. Living.

Whatever helps them sleep at night.

Severus says nothing; instead, he slinks out of the Headmaster's office long before he is dismissed. His debt to the Wizarding world and Albus Dumbledore has been paid with interest. He is no longer Headmaster's to command.

While everyone else is still with their Great Leader, Severus is the one who is there to see Harry Potter open his eyes.

"So you are awake," Severus says and it takes all of his experience as a spy to keep everything he feels, all the turmoil of emotions, off his face. Of course, Potter probably would not register them anyway, considering his current state.

Severus concentrates on his own turbulent emotions so hard that at first he does not understand, what is that, the boy is asking of him.

When he finally deciphers that Potter is asking for a poison to take away the life that has just been so miraculously returned to him, Severus wants to strangle the boy with his own bare hands.

The selfish, impossible, little brat!

Severus yells at Potter until the boy starts yelling back at him.

"How dare **you**! You know nothing! NOTHING!

Since when do you care?"

And Severus realises that it is he, who is being selfish. It is he who is feeling indebted to Potter and who wants to repay the debt somehow and who needs Potter to be alive to be able to do that. But, what right does he have?

It leaves bitter taste in his mouth. Another debt. Snape has always been indebted to someone - to Lily Evans for giving him time of day, to James Potter for saving his life, then to Lucius Malfoy for his protection and patronage, then to Voldemort, for the chance to get revenge, then to Albus Dumbledore for giving him another chance… Severus does not want to be in debt again.

He storms out of the hospital wing trying to ignore the sobs that are coming from the sad pile of blankets on the bed that is the Great Hero of the Wizarding World.

They can have him, their Hero, for all Severus cares!

He avoids the infirmary for the next days. Severus is not going to be one in the throng of Potter's admirers. He doubts that Potter wants him there anyway. His ugly, nasty Potions Master. Snape doubts that Potter thinks of him as of anything beyond that. Of course, he would not admit that it stings.

So he doesn't see Potter until the brat returns to their quarters.

It is so obvious by just looking at the boy that Potter doesn't want to be there. And with 'there', he doesn't mean the dungeons. With 'there', Severus means 'alive'. It is not the first time he sees that look on someone. Many witches and wizards were like that after the First War, after loosing everything that made living worth it for them.

Severus tries to ignore it, what does he care… Nevertheless, he lets Potter know that he is welcome to stay in their rooms as much as the boy likes, that he is allowed to invite his insufferable Gryffindor friends to visit him, no matter, how much it pains Severus.

When he looks at Potter… well, Snape doesn't have it in him, to yell at the boy, to call him names or do anything at all that might upset or hurt Potter. It is somewhat disconcerting, but the dynamics of their relationship have irrefutably changed.

Severus can't hate Potter anymore, can't make himself to believe that the son is his father's exact copy. If anything, he reminds The Potions Master of Lily, especially when the emerald green eyes look at Severus strangely intense and seeking.

And then on the night of the ball in honours of the Great Victory Potter stands there before him, wearing a set of new, form fitting dress robes that are so dark crimson that they appear almost black… and the boy is so unbelievingly beautiful… Severus wants… he wants to… probably the first thing he wants is to lock the boy in the dungeons and never let him out.

Severus doesn't want others to look at his husband. They adore him already, what would happen when they will see Potter tonight, so young, so fragile, so brave and so very striking. The boy is his. He was given to Severus and Severus doesn't want to share, he doesn't want them to take Harry away from him now.

However, he can't refuse this time. They have to go to the damned Ball and let everyone gawk at them. It is a cold comfort that Potter obviously hates the idea as much as Severus.

It is a nightmare. Severus' insides burn with hate for everyone who smiles at Potter, he longs to hex everyone who wants to shake his hand, even touch or kiss him… jealousy is nothing new to Snape, since he has always had less than others, he has been denied what he has wanted for so many times…

But Severus has no right to want Potter!

They are married… a little voice reminds him. And what if? What if they are? Snape knows very well, what was the purpose of said marriage. Potter would be disgusted if he knew what Severus is thinking.

**5.**

Severus cannot pinpoint the moment he realises that Harry Potter is probably the fairest thing he has ever seen.

However, there is no going back after that. The Potions Master is aware that it is something that he has actually known for very long time, but simply has not wanted to admit to himself.

It is not the first time Severus Snape has trouble with admitting something to himself, is it? He is a stubborn man and likes to hold to certain beliefs and attitudes until something hits him in the face. Hard. With a force of a an out of control bludger.

But Severus has sworn to be as honest with himself as possible.

There is no way he can deny it any longer. Potter's eyes, lips, hair, smell... from irritants they have turned into intoxicants.

One day, when he returns to their rooms to see the boy sitting on the sofa with a book and no socks on and he sees Potter's bare feet, so small, pale with little, round toes, the most appealing feet he has ever seen…

Severus has to hurry to the bathroom if he doesn't want to make a fool out of himself.

Only it is too late. He has already turned into one.

He looks in the mirror and as always al he can see is an enormous nose.

"You are a very, very sick man," Severus tells himself barely above a whisper. The mirror Severus simply shrugs and doesn't offer any advice.

It doesn't help when he goes over all of the Potter's shortcomings in his mind, starting with the boy's parentage, his age, inaptitude at the subtle art of Potions and finishing with boy's knobbly knees and poor eating habits.

And it doesn't even help that if he thinks about it rationally, Severus realises that Potter isn't actually as gorgeous as one insane part of his mind tries to convince the other, the logical one.

Severus knows that he is being utterly irrational, but he suspects, that is how it works. He just can't accept that it is happening to him.

Besides there is no way… he is just an old man for Harry, one of his professors, the Potions Master. It doesn't matter that they are married, because even if it they can't divorce after they have been bonded by the kind of ritual that Albus Dumbledore has used, everyone knows that it is just a formality, a marriage of convenience. It gives Severus no advantage, maybe it makes everything even worse. Harry probably despises Snape for all of it.

Severus knows that Harry has a lot to despise him for. After all, Severus has never treated the boy with an ounce of kindness. In fact, he still is not being particularly kind. Lessening of verbal abuse is not equivalent to professing endless love.

Nevertheless, the overpowering urge to treat Potter somewhat decently is embarrassing. He wonders if Potter has even noticed, if anyone else has noticed. He will not become the laughing-stock of the damned school.

He will not!

**6.**

There will never be anything real between Severus Snape and Harry Potter, who is technically Potter-Snape now, but no one acknowledges that. Well, actually there are probably at least thirty-one good reason, but even one is enough.

Severus just isn't good enough.

Even if one day Harry might… Bollocks! Might, would, could! Bollocks! More likely – might not, would not, could not!

No. Severus has no right. There is probably someone better, more worthy out there. A prince on the dragon or even a princess on the unicorn.

Severus isn't it. The one.

He would scare the dragon away, not to mention the unicorn.

He doesn't deserve the boy, someone who is so pure, so beautiful. He is only capable of hurting the young Hero of the Wizarding World, Dumbledore's Golden Boy. Severus will keep him safe, keep Harry here until he will turn seventeen and then he will let the boy go.

Harry will be able to find someone for himself. Someone worthy and Gryffindor, someone good-looking or even female. Severus is quite sure that there are enough wizards and witches who will gladly overlook that there would never be any official bond as long as they will get their piece of Harry Potter.

Severus knows that he sounds bitter even in his head , but who wouldn't?

He sees the looks Harry gets from half of the Hogwarts' population every day. Dreamy, adoring, lusting. Potter himself appears to be quite ignorant, but eventually he is bond to notice. And then he will leave Severus alone in his dungeons, alone and with nothing.

The Headmaster is already giving him significant looks and insinuating in every way possible that Harry might want to return to the tower and his friends. The protection is not needed anymore and not because The Dark Lord is gone. Severus is ashamed that he has not realised it sooner.

He hasn't been protecting Potter only from the dark Lord and the Death Eaters, but from himself as well and apparently the Headmaster has decided that the boy is sane and stable enough to be allowed to be on his own, which means, Severus is not needed anymore.

If they were lucky, the public might even forget that their beloved Boy-Who-Lived is married to an Ex-Death Eater. It will hardly be a problem for the celebrated hero to find a wench who would not mind not having a ring on her finger as long as she had the illustrious Harry Potter.

Only out of sheer stubbornness and growing resentment towards the Headmaster and his manipulative ways, Severus doesn't mention anything to the boy and ignores the old wizard and his deep sighs and monologues of what would be the best for the poor boy.

Severus knows that he will not be able to stop Harry from leaving if he will decide to return to the Gryffindor and start a new, better life. However, he has always been a very selfish man.

He is aware that it is just prolonging the torture he is suffering day after day, being so close to something that he wants more than anything and not being able to reach out and take it. It is so much against his very nature; Severus is a Slytherin after all, but unfortunately one with conscience.

Nevertheless, he is just a man and the night he opens his eyes and Harry is there, leaning over him, it is a dream come true…

Harry's lips taste exactly as good as Severus has been imagining. The moment they touch, Severus can't stop anymore; he is drinking from the sweet, little mouth and it is better than the finest of vines from the Malfoy cellar. The boy's lithe body is almost weightless on top of him; his hair is the softest of acromantula silk under his fingertips.

It is pure heaven…

And then Severus remembers who he is, where he is and with whom he is and what he is doing.

He lets the boy go instantly. Pushes him away with more force than necessary. Oh, Gods, what a bastard he is! Severus has to leave; he can't stay in the same room with Harry. He needs to put as much distance between them as possible, because he does something worse, something he would never forgive himself.

For about three days Severus spends all of his free time locked in his potions laboratory and brews until he gets tired enough to pass out on the chair that he has transfigured into something that reminds a bed. Vaguely.

It is very uncomfortable and in the morning, the Potions Master wakes up sore and achy, but he takes it as a punishment for his vile thoughts, his nasty deeds.

Severus is not sure for how long exactly he stays locked. He chops, he grinds, he slices, he distils… he tries not to think, to forget, to keep busy. The potions are all Severus allows himself.

Salamander eggs, dried nettles, boomslang skin, ginger root, fresh peppermint, which is as green as Potter's eyes…

Severus suspects that he is close to loosing his mind when someone knocks on his door. He ignores the first knock and then there is another one. Severus swears and drops the knife. It could be the Headmaster wanting to find out, why a member of his valuable staff hasn't been giving others pleasure of his company at the meals.

It isn't. It is Harry. Harry Potter looking at him with those soul-shattering eyes. Harry Potter not looking at him. Harry Potter begging him.

As if Severus could say, 'no'…

**7.**

Severus feels guilty every time he touches his young husband. His hands just are not clean enough. The ex-Death Eater is afraid that the boy will be sullied and spoiled like everything Severus has ever touched.

To Severus it seems somehow indecent, even sinful to want the boy the way he wants Harry, feel so much passion, burning, skin-scorching desire. When Severus thinks of the boy's mother, he is almost choking on his guilt. Is it not abnormal, to fall in love with a boy, whose mother he once almost worshipped?

However, he can't refuse Harry, who is always there, always looking at him with those green, kind eyes, making Severus feel like some sort of demigod. Those eyes are much purer and more generous than the ones that belonged to Lily Potter. There is no pity in those eyes, no benevolence in his words. When Harry looks at Severus, the man feels wanted, not just tolerated.

Harry seems so happy. Severus doesn't understand; as far as he knows, he is not doing anything that would cause such reaction, he is being completely selfish, but for whatever reason the boy is smiling more and more with every passing day.

"Severus,"

God, but he loves hearing his name from those small, swollen lips. As a sigh, as a moan of pleasure as the boy parts his thighs and surrenders so beautifully.

Every morning, when Severus wakes up, he wishes he had a time turner and could skip the day and have the night already and he could hold Harry in his arms again.

Touch him, caress him, suckle on his little, round toes, lick way up his thigh and nibble behind his knobbly knees. Take Harry in his mouth and have him moan and writhe and make those little keening noises that Severus has never heard any of his previous lovers make.

His feelings almost suffocate Severus. He knows that it has always been his greatest flaw – incapability to control his emotions. It has always made Severus vulnerable. The strange infatuation with the son of the man he has hated for the most of his life, this obsession has taken away all of the control he has had over his life and over himself. Every morning Severus wakes up and leaves his quarters fearing that in the evening, he will come back to his rooms and will not find Harry there.

He watches the boy with the other teenagers. Harry is chatting and laughing in the way young wizards often do. 'He doesn't laugh like that, when he is with you, does he?' A little voice that sounds a bit like Lucius Malfoy whispers on Severus' ear.

But he smiles, doesn't he? There are those small cheeky grins like little rays of sunshine that the boy tries to hide sometimes, apparently thinking that they will not be appreciated, since the brat usually finds amusing Severus' rants about the incompetence of his students and colleagues.

Harry looks happy and glowing and everyone notices that. The students cluster around the boy as if he was a fire in the cold, starless autumn night. The Weasley boy has forsaken his girlfriend to spend all his free time hanging off Severus' husband and the way Longbottom looks at Harry with starry eyes wants Severus to go and poke them out.

Severus has always despised people, who has charm and don't hesitate to use it to gain advantage over others. The likes of James Potter who are always forgiven all their infractions for a smile. Severus knows that he should be disgusted, but when the same smile lights up Harry's face, he feels all warm and fuzzy inside.

Warm and fuzzy. Ha! Ridiculous isn't it? But disturbingly accurate way to describe his present state. Severus is afraid that he is scaring the students and some of the colleagues by being almost amiable lately.

The Headmaster obviously is aware, that the marriage is not one by name only anymore. At first, he looks worried and disapproving and tries to confront Severus, who pretends the old man does not exist.

Later, however, Dumbledore corners Severus to let him know that he approves.

"You are good for each other, my boy. Harry looks so happy, the poor boy…"

Severus hopes that the look he gives the Headmaster right then expresses exactly how little he cares if Albus Dumbledore approves that he buggers his own husband or does not.

He can't quite look up to the Headmaster as he once did. Not after everything that has happened, everything the old man has allowed to happen to Harry.

Harry, Harry, Harry… it is all about Harry. Severus knows that he is being foolish, but he can't help himself. He is falling in love. Harry is becoming more important to him than anything else is.

And that is why the earth is swept from beneath Severus' feet when he sees Harry kissing Ronald Weasley and hears them confess their love for each other.

Severus would have preferred if someone drove a blade through his chest.

**8.**

Severus feels numb. He realises that it is just phantasm and nothing more, but it seems like the chill has embraced his heart and is spreading through his body, forcing all the warmth he has ever felt out of it.

It doesn't even make sense.

Why would Potter allow Severus to bed him, if Ronald Weasley is the one he loves? For a moment the Potions Master has the ridiculous idea of fighting for Harry, proving that he is better… what a foolishly Griffindorish idea it is. Whom is he kidding? Harry Potter has never been meant for him; the same way he has never really had a chance with Lily.

There will always be some Gryffindor, better and more good looking than the ugly, unsociable Potions Master.

And Harry… the innocent, shy, reluctant hero. Unaware of the way he affects people around him? Merlin, but what a fool Severus has been! That act is as old as the world, is it not?

The fact that he had misjudged the boy so badly hurts him almost as much as his betrayal.

Severus can't look at Potter because he fears, that he will fall for deception once again, that he will not be able to resist the beautiful, soulful eyes… He hasn't told the boy to get out yet, as he should have the moment he saw Harry in Weasleys arms. Severus is hurt, but can't let go yet.

Pathetic. In love with a schoolboy, a Gryffindor, against logics and common sense. Once again, a Potter has humiliated him.

He is pending. He is in the purgatory and knows that whatever decision he will make; there is nothing, but Hell ahead.

So, when Draco Malfoy once again stands there in front of Severus, wearing that cheeky grin and not so subtly insinuating that he would agree to everything and much more, Severus does not send the boy on his way as usually. He does not let the little snake know, what exactly he thinks of his indecent prepositions as he has so many times before.

Instead, Severus orders the boy to undress and get down on his knees, not even very kindly. Severus is a bit disgusted that Draco obviously does not care if he is being humiliated and probably even likes it. He does not even feel guilty for using one of his students this way. Not the Malfoy junior.

Severus is aware that the boy is no little angel; the son is as twisted as the father was and he has managed to get away with many things that he should be expelled for at least, of course, Severus can't prove it.

Te Potions Master is aware that, for whatever perverse reason, Draco has been tying to climb into his bet ever since he has become interested in sex and not only the opposite, but his own as well. And, naturally, since the marriage Draco has become even more persistent. That is not much of surprise.

Severus lets Draco pleasure him with his mouth, his hand gripping the blond hair so tightly that it certainly has to hurt, which makes the boy only moan louder. He thrusts deeper and deeper in that indecent mouth, not caring if Draco is comfortable or not, admiring the ethereal, unique beauty, the high cheekbones, flawless, pale skin, the blonde hair and the smouldering mercury eyes. Looking at the young wizard one almost wants to champion inbreeding.

People like Draco Malfoy, is one of the reasons why Severus has always despised beauty without substance. But it does not matter under the circumstances. Right now Draco is exactly what Severus needs. The more forceful and brutal Severus' thrusts get, the louder Draco moans and whimpers.

Severus calls him a whore, a little dirty slut and all the other names he wants to shout at his husband, but Draco only begs for more. He could never have done this with Potter, not like this… he wouldn't have even wanted…

Oh, God… Severus almost throws up right over Malfoy's pale back as he comes buried into the boy's perfect body.

He feels nothing, but emptiness watching Draco getting dressed. He allows the boy to kiss him before he leaves, because even if it is too late for regrets, his conscience starts reminding the man of itself. As usually _post factum._

What else is new?

**9.**

Severus spends the Saturday in his laboratory, working on experimental potion. He is trying to create a youth-preserving potion that doesn't turn the user into a half-wit when used regularly.

Not that he cares for the vainest of witches and wizards, who can't deal with aging and don't care if their IQ dwindles as long as their skin remains smooth, but it is a challenge.

Challenge enough to take his mind off the other things.

It is very late when Severus returns to his rooms. He takes a long shower. Longer than usually, hoping that when he will come out of the bathroom, Potter will be in the bed, asleep already.

But he is not. The boy is not asleep, he is not even there.

Snape knows he shouldn't worry, after all Potter is well known for his nightly excursions, is he not? Only that the man knows very well that nothing of the sort has been happening since his fifth year. But then, maybe it has. Maybe everything Severus thinks he knows about Harry is one big, elaborate lie, maybe the boy is smarter and more devious than he appears to be. Maybe the innocence, naiveté and gullibility is just a mask?

How can Severus know for how long Potter has been dallying with Weasley behind his back? Maybe he himself has been blind as a mole. Maybe it hasn't been only Weasley…

Severus decides that it is it. As soon as his 'dear' husband crosses the threshold, Severus is going to put an end to this farce.

He empties a half bottle of firewhiskey waiting for Potter. Only Harry does not come back and later, when Severus starts searching for real, he discovers that his razor blade is among other things the boy has obviously taken with him.

When he goes through Potter's belongings, Severus finds a note.

_I have left of my own fr__ee will. Don't wait me back._

TBC

**Reminders:**

An Inferius (plural: Inferi) is a corpse controlled through a Dark wizard's spells.

_friar's cap_ - is poisonous, grows by my house, as a child I was told to be careful with it.

_youth preserving potion __- _I think if such potion was available in the wizarding world, there would be a price to pay.

**A/N:**

Sorry for late update, was having Internet problems. Gah!

I must say that I was pleasantly surprised to receive so many reviews, I am also a bit scare now, because you all have pretty high expectations about this story.

I am warning you, that you can expect an update only in a week, because of the way I write them. While the story is technically finished on my laptop and I could post it all right now, I am going to change it like twenty times in the week I take between posting chapters and maybe even add another chapter. I need time for all of that.

I also felt that it would not be right not to respond you, but since there are so many of those, I answered only those reviews with questions. But of course, I did read every review.

D – mhm, there is door-matish and then, there is door-matish. Sorry, there will not be much of Ron.

ProperT – a good idea about seeing a Bogart! Actually a great one. Not this time, but don't mind if I use it in some other story of mine.

A ninny moose – yes, I am intentionally awkward with phrasing. I like it that way.

cake and pie - blushes. Thanks! The story is pretty much cliché, I warned about that. But not exactly what you hoped it won't be, no. I also don't like those years, you know. I guess we are not very patient.

But actually, I have always wanted to write that cliché too, because it is usually very poorly done - I haven't seen a decent 'Harry returns with a kid fic' like ever.

Shadowsfriend – I am not a native English as well. About the lack of dialogue – well, yes, I guess it is different, but,

Hope Rivet – definitely not an one shot. I would have warned about it. Like I have warned you about pretty much everything, you might encounter in my story.

Draned – well, Severus cheated because of what you mentioned and many more very complex reasons.

FaeryQueen – Thank you for the preposition

Todd – well, I admit that I write too much mpreg!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Sacrifices Betrayals Love and Foolishness

**Word Count:** 35,000

**Chapters**: 3/4

**Genre**: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing**: Harry/Snape, Snape/?

**Summary**: Harry and Snape are forced to marry and it doesn't really work out that well. Harry is depressed, Snape is stubborn, and everyone else is selfish. HP/SS, slash, mpreg, A/U

**Setting:** After The Order of The Phoenix and the Department of Mysteries. Harry has just turned sixteen.

**Rating**: Nothing too terrible, a bit of sex a bit of depressive themes.

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), OOC, A/U, non-canon, angsty, emotional, dubious consent(somewhat), male pregnancy is more than just mentioned, not beta-edited, may seem disturbing, door-mat-ish Harry, some grammar errors.

AN: You have been warned already, that this is Mpreg, if you are not comfortable with it or have no idea, what it means – don't read.

* * *

**...Foolishness…**

**1.**

Harry tightens his grip around the blade and walks over to the bed that stands against one of the walls. Harry takes off the dusty blanket. It is alright underneath, not dirty, just smells musty, but a bit of dust has never killed anyone.

At least as far as he knows.

Harry muses that it would probably be easier to do it if he was lying down. But first he has to make the cuts. He will probably have time to lie down after; from Hermione he knows that a wizard's body can endure more damage as a muggle's. Babies bounce off the floors when they fall out of their cribs, when someone's intestines get liquefied by a dark curse, there is still time to save them and so on.

For a moment Harry wonders if he is setting himself up for hours of slow agony. Doesn't matter. He has to do it.

He lifts the blade that surprisingly looks almost dull in the dusky cabin as if it has suddenly lost all the tempting glint. Can a blade look unhappy about what it is about to be used for?

No, Harry is quite sure that it is just the darkness. But it is all right that he can't cast _Lumos_. Probably it will be easier to leave in the dark anyway. It will be like falling asleep. The darkness should be comforting, hiding most of the ugliness of the world.

Harry remembers being locked in the cupboard under the stairs. It is so dark in a cupboard like that, without a window, without even a gap between the door and the wall. One can't see anything at all. One can imagine that he is almost anywhere, that when the lights will be switched up there will be a nice bedroom with a real bed, a mattress that will not be lumpy, with a loads of plushies and other things that belong to a child's room.

When it's so dark that it is impossible to see at all, there can be anything, anything when the lights are switched on… the only problem is that when none of the child's dreams ever come true, the game stops being fun.

Well, nothing like childhood memories to cement Harry's resolve.

Harry takes a deep, but shaky breath and lifts his right hand holding the razor in his left; he thinks that it will be easier if he will open the right wrist, first… the blade is impossibly cold against his fair skin, glowing in half-light. Just a bit of pressure and it will part for the unforgiving steel…

He will meet Mum, dad and Sirius again…

No! No! No!

His hand shakes and the blade clatters down on the floor.

He can't do it… something inside his very being is screaming, pleading, begging, ordering… not to do it.

Harry doesn't understand, but he knows. It is strange kind of awareness and Harry has no idea where it is coming from, but it is there. He can't leave. There is something he has yet to do. There is something to hold on again. He suddenly knows that he is not alone anymore and that he will never be alone again.

**2.**

Days have gone by and Potter has not returned.

Weeks have gone by and Potter has not returned.

Months have gone by and Potter…

At first, Severus had not believed that the boy was really gone. He had decided that it had finally come to that. Inevitable, sure… why am I so shocked – Severus had asked himself. Still such a fool, scrawny, ugly, naïvely hopeful Severus. Ha!

Ha!

He should have known better.

In one way or another, the world has always mocked his feelings. When Severus had been a small boy, who had loved his Mama above everything else, his father had called him 'mommy's boy', weakling, a pansy and other nasty words and beaten her until there had been no love in the woman left even for herself, not to mention anyone else.

When he had discovered his passion for Potions, Severus had been forced to watch the way his Potions professor, Horace Slughorn, had still favoured Black and James Potter's charm over Severus' skill and dedication.

Lily Evans, whom he had idolised and cherished as his best friend, has married the boy who had been the reason why Severus' teenage years had been a living Hell. One awful word spoken in a moment of extreme anguish had been harder to forgive than years of humiliation and cruelty inflicted on someone who she had called a friend. (2)

All right, he is not being fair - there was more than that.

However, Severus is not in a very charitable mood at the moment and for once not willing to ponder on his endless mistakes.

Then the aristocratic, smooth talking and handsome Lucius Malfoy had started showing interest in Severus and his skills. The lonely, awkward teenager had been flattered. Only to find out that he had been lured in a trap he would not get out of for the rest of his life.

When the greatest Light Wizard of our time had offered him redemption, it had turned out that he would have to damn himself trice to earn it.

Every time Severus Snape has held something dear, has trusted someone it has turned out badly. Every time he has desired something and thought to be holding it in his hand, it has shattered in million little pieces and he has been forced to walk barefoot over the shards.

So, when Potter doesn't return that night, Severus has no doubt that the boy was spending it in someone else's bed, by someone else's side, that he has finally seen sense and decided to put an end to their sham of a marriage.

However, Potter does not return the next morning.

And then he discovers that the razor from the bathroom is missing.

Severus doesn't know what to think anymore.

His eyes stray to the bathroom cabinet where he used to keep the old razor. Long time ago it has belonged to his father's father. It is his only inheritance, the only thing of some value Tobias Snape hasn't traded for drink. It is ironic, really, that his family would find ways to hurt Severus even from beyond their graves.

Hurt… but why would it hurt? The thought of Potter and for what he has probably already used that blade.

Severus shakes his head. It is pointless, pointless to think about it.

He walks back into the bedroom.

Draco Malfoy is sprawled over his bed. Nude, and with the green coverlet on the background, it looks as if his lean body has been sculpted from moonbeams instead of mortal flesh. The boy is breathtakingly beautiful and he knows it and likes to flaunt it. No shame, no guilt, those are beyond a Malfoys comprehension.

Draco shifts, crosses his arms behind his head parting his legs slightly in a seemingly unaware, accidental manner as if he was trying to get more comfortable.

Severus knows better. Draco is a poser, a player. This is all one big game for him.

The boy arches his back, a movement that pushes forward his slightly muscled chest and hard pebbles of his pink nipples.

Severus has no idea why the brat is doing this, what is that he wants. It is not like he is some kind of Prince Charming or George The Dragon Slayer. He has no idea, what a teenage boy could be attracted to in him.

He does not care either.

He doesn't know why he is going along with it. Maybe, because he doesn't care.

Draco parts his thighs again, this time obviously, deliberately.

Severus despises the boy as never before, but this is what he deserves, isn't it? This is whom he belongs with. The likes of Draco Malfoy.

Severus almost welcomes the emptiness and coldness he feels.

**3.**

One day Harry wakes up and decides that it can't continue like this. He rolls out of the bed… well, the fact that he 'rolls' already says something about the situation, doesn't it? He is not even sure how far he is, precisely. It could be seven months, or it could be eight.

But he is big, that is for sure. The baby might want to arrive any day from now. What will he do then? Harry already feels a bit irresponsible that he hasn't returned to civilization and has not found proper medical care, knowing of his condition.

Harry has known that he is pregnant since the moment the razor fell out of his hand.

But the days been passing, one after another and he hasn't felt many ill effects of the pregnancy so far. He has gotten sick a couple of times, he has experienced some dizzy spells, but that's about it.

It certainly does feel strange, carrying a child since Harry has never expected anything like this, but not in a bad way. Harry realises that he should be shocked and scared and spends days wondering why he is not.

Because he is a wizard? Because he has cheated death two times already? No, all of it doesn't matter. The truth is simply that he is so happy to have a baby that nothing else matters and he doesn't care why and how.

The little bump, that slowly but steadily grows bigger and bigger, until Harry develops serious problem with tying his shoelaces, is an inexhaustible source of joy. Being pregnant is like basking in constant sunshine that is coming from inside him.

For the first time in his life Harry is unconditionally, absolutely happy.

He has fallen in love with the strange, little hut in the middle of nowhere, the boy spends his days walking in the forest and sitting by the lake and evenings gazing into the fireplace and thinking.

It turns out that whoever has been using the house for whatever reason, has stocked it up. There are tons of canned food in the pantry – meats, fish, beans, sausages, pastas and pickles. Yes, the pickles are certainly worth mentioning, because they are one of the things Harry sometimes craves so much that he can swear he will die if he will not get some.

Harry almost can't believe so many kinds of food can be bought tinned. And there are plenty of dry goods, like pasta, oatmeal, rice. And even dried bred and biscuits. Harry assumes that some kind of preservation charms is put on the food.

It is obvious that whoever has built the place has meant to spend some time there.

Harry suspects that it might have something to do with his parents and Sirius, since they are the ones who have showed it to him (kind of), but he is not sure, since there is no evidence. He has searched the whole house and found nothing besides some books on various subjects, like charms, transfiguration, Quidditch, dragons and various other topics.

He reads them all and after his seventeenth birthday starts practicing the spells from the books, because he has nothing to do otherwise and he feels really guilty for being so lazy sometimes.

But sooner or later he is going to run out of food and while it's possible to conjure wood for the fireplace, it's impossible to conjure food and probably illegal to try and summon it.(1)

And, anyway, while Harry could probably solve the food problem somehow, he has no idea, what to do if the baby suddenly decides that it wants out or rather when, because sooner or later the day will come. The boy is aware that he is getting bigger and bigger and some days he really feels like he is about to burst.

Harry is slightly worried, because he suspects, that what has happened is unusual even for the Wizarding World and he is probably lucky that there has not been any complications so far. But he knows that he needs help and can't put off getting it anymore.

Harry stuffs his few belongings into the old school bag, not that there is much, his clothes are really threadbare, because they have been transfigured larger too many times, thus turning the fabrics thinner. Harry assumes that he must be look ridiculous, fatter than Dudley (even if in a bit different way) and wearing almost rags. But he has never been particularly vain.

The boy walks outside the house, through the woods towards the old, overgrown road. He has no idea, where it leads, because Harry has never ventured so far, but he hopes that he will be able to call the Knight Bus from there.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and thinks about how much he needs to get from here to Hogwarts. He hopes that whatever spell is there, that makes the bus come when someone needs it, it wouldn't sense that it is more like he needs to go to Hogwarts despite not wanting to.

However, his need is obviously enough, since a couple of minutes later, the bus stops in front of him and the door opened to reveal smiling Stan Shunpike. Harry is already not looking forward to the ride in his present condition, but there is no helping that.

The boy is a bit green when he stumbles out of the bus on the edge of Hogsmeade. That is apparently, how far Hogwarts wards allow the bus to go. Harry is a bit tired already, but he waddles towards the castle and is relieved when the gate opens for him. Maybe the school still thinks that he is a student.

It is late. Harry arrives shortly before the curfew, but he doesn't want to run into any of the students, it is the way Harry has planned it.

The main door opens with a creak making Harry wince, when the sound echoes in the dark, empty halls. So much for arriving quietly. He takes a deep breath. It's not as if he isn't nervous about coming back. He is worried, but he doesn't have much choise.

While Harry stands by the door, the decision where to go next is taken from him. He sees Albus Dumbledore strolling into his direction. The headmaster doesn't look happy, angry, surprised or sad. There is no expression on his face at all, which is strange.

The man stops about three steps from the young wizard.

"Harry, my boy. You have returned," he says.

Harry simply nods. Well, it is kind of obvious that he has returned, isn't it?

The Headmaster asks the boy to follow him, turns around, and starts walking down the corridor.

"No," Harry says quietly, then clears his throat and repeats much louder. "**No.** I am here to see Madam Pomfrey."

He knows that it would not hurt him not to see the mediwitch right now, but he doesn't want to set the rules.

The Headmaster turns around smiles at the boy and tells him that, of course, if Harry wants to see the nurse, he will gladly arrange that. After they have talked.

Harry wonders how he has never noticed before how domineering the man is, and patronising. He wants to go against the old man, because of sheer spite. A bit late for the teenage rebellion… but then, maybe it isn't and maybe it isn't just a teenage rebellion too.

"Talking can wait. Right?" the boy announces and when he sees that the Headmaster is about to object, Harry is suddenly inspired to do his own bit of manipulation and parts his tatty robe, revealing his huge belly, which has stretched his red t-shirt to the utmost.

"Meeting Madam Pomfrey might be more urgent than any talking right now. Of course, I can always go to St. Mungo's, if there is a problem…" Harry is satisfied to notice that for once he has managed to surprise the old man. Even if it shows only for a moment, it is more than most have done.

Dumbledore shakes his head, says it is not a problem at all and escorts Harry to the Hospital Wing himself. The boy suspects that the old wizard is a bit unsettled after all, otherwise he wouldn't have given in so easily.

Madame Pomfrey's eyes widen when Harry enters the Infirmary. And then once more, when her eyes come to rest on his middle.

"Mister Potter!" The nurse exclaims. "What have you done to yourself!"

Harry founds her reaction amusing, but he simply shrugs: "It's a baby. I am going to have a baby."

The boy announces and can't help the smile that is tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Albus looks at the boy with doubt and asks if he is sure.

Harry snorts. Of course he is. What else could it be? A tumour?

Meanwhile Pomfrey has recovered her bearing and she hurries towards Harry, takes his hand, leads him to one of the hospital beds, and helps the boy to get on it. That Harry appreciates greatly. He is tired and his balance is off.

Then the witch turns towards the Headmaster: "Excuse us, professor."

Albus Dumbledore looks very reluctant to leave, but the stern mediwitch is having none of that, after all, there is such a thing as patient's privacy. "Of course you can't stay, Albus!" She exclaims indignantly. Harry just tries to relax and rest his back, he trusts Madame Pomfrey to handle the situation.

As soon as the Headmaster has closed the door behind himself, the mediwitch starts fussing over Harry. She casts a spell, swapping Harry's clothes for a hospital gown, which is more like a nightshirt, than pyjamas, but the boy concludes that it is probably for the best, since trousers constantly slip off his extended belly anyway.

Then she starts casting spells on him, muttering to herself something.

"You are indeed pregnant," the woman confirms, as if Harry has any doubts.

"Judging by everything you could be about thirty weeks along. At least. I can't be sure, since I don't know, what the norm is. Your condition is not that regular for the Wizards, Mr. Potter. Not unheard of, but not common."

The boy just nods.

"Would you like to know the sex of the baby?" The witch inquires.

"No," Harry shakes his head. "I don't… that is, I know already, it's a girl."

Madame Pomfrey looks impressed: "You have good instincts, Mr. Potter."

She doesn't have to tell him. From the very beginning, the baby has felt not like a separate someone, a person growing inside him, but more like another limb, like a branch would feel if Harry was a tree.

Then the mediwitch asks Harry to lift his legs, bend and part them. At his horrified expression, she informs the boy, that it is necessary, she is not doing that to embarrass him, and that he has nothing she has not seen before.

That is not exactly true though, since after slightly uncomfortable examination, the mediwitch explains that Harry's birth canal has just started to form and obviously he will be able to have the baby the natural way. Actually, she is very impressed that both Harry and the baby are healthy and developing normally and there is nothing to worry about. She can't tell precise time of birth though and want to keep the boy in the Hospital Wing for at least three four days, to watch the forming of the birth canal.

Harry is not going to complain. It is not like he ha anywhere to go, right? Besides, he wants to be a responsible parent.

Then Harry asks how it was possible for him to get pregnant. Pomfrey looks at him beseechingly: "You haven't used any potions or a ritual?" Harry shakes his head, of course not. She nods and explains that she has to ask, since the pregnancy has to be reported to the Ministry.

"I have to be sure that it's a magical or genetic accident, not induced with a potion or spells. That is highly dangerous, hence, illegal."

"But how then?" Harry prods

Madame Pomfrey just shrugs. She says that there might have been a magical creature in his line, Fae, most likely, or any other, without strictly defined sex and gender. Potters are an old pure blood family after all, aren't they? No strictly defined sex… that sounds very weird to Harry and he wonders why it has never been discussed in the Care of Magical Creatures.

But while his thoughts have been wandering, Pomfrey had apparently called a house elf and a tray with warm milk and some oatmeal cookies has been delivered for Harry. The boy was really grateful, because it is exactly what he is craving right now. After Harry finishes eating, the mediwitch takes away the tray and orders him to sleep.

For a moment he wonders, why isn't she calling Dumbledore back, the Headmaster must be dying to talk to him, but it is only moments before the sleep claims him and dispels all the turbulent thoughts.

**4.**

When Harry wakes up the next morning, he feels well rested. He is not sure about the reasons, but ever since the boy knows that he is carrying a life inside him, he has become much calmer; he sleeps better and can't complain about lack of appetite. Besides, he is much happier. How can he not be? Harry is going to have a baby, a real, alive baby, someone that is not carrying only a part of himself, but also a part of his Dad and Mum.

For Harry it is going to be like getting to see them a bit. Parts of them will be there, in his daughter. Maybe she will have Lily's eyes or James' lips or Lily's lips and James' eyebrows. He has no doubt that there will certainly be at least something.

Besides, even if that is a bit selfish, Harry knows that unless he will do something very, very bad, his little girl will love him unconditionally, forever. She will never betray him. He will never be alone again; he will finally have his own family!

Still, the boy wonders if it is sane, the way he had been able to dismiss all the complications and weird things connected to his condition.

Like an extra hole forming in his body this exact moment, which he is becoming strangely aware of and can't really pretend that it is a piercing in a strange place. Like the fact that a boy shouldn't be pregnant in the first place. Like his baby's father, who… no, Harry forbids himself to think about Snape. The man has no right, absolutely no right to take up so much of the boy's thoughts.

Merlin, but some days Snape is the only thing Harry thinks about and it is not very cool.

Madame Pomfrey marches into the room shortly after Harry has returned from the loo. She looks awfully energetic. The boy suspects, that the meiwitch really likes having him here, more than any other time, when she treated him after one of his misadventures.

She checks his temperature, casts some kind of diagnostic spell, and is apparently satisfied with the results.

"Alright, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey doesn't smile, but her expression is kind in her own, stern-ish way. "Now, you will have your breakfast and then I am afraid, you will be up for visitors."

Harry nods and thanks her. He reckons that she is the one who has kept everyone away from him. he wonders about Poppy Pomfrey, Harry has expected her to be more disapproving. Not that she ever says anything, but usually it is hard to miss when she would want to give you a good trashing on top of your Quidditch scrapes.

The house elf has just popped away with Harry's breakfast tray when the door swings open and Mrs. Weasley rushes in and then she is already by the bed and is hugging him into her ample bosom: "Oh, goodness, Harry, we were so worried! Oh, Harry!"

The only thing Harry can think about is that he hopes his transformation will stop with the so called birth canal and he won't grow any of those.

Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley, Remus Lupin and Professor McGonagall follow Molly Weasley in more sedate manner.

But Harry hardly sees them.

The boy curses his weak heart, because the traitorous organ still has gall to clench painfully as his eyes rest on the dark-hired man. Severus Snape, his husband. The one Harry… he is not sure, how he feels about Snape anymore. Harry would prefer not to feel anything at all and it upsets him that it doesn't really work that way.

He looks away. At Dumbledore, Lupin, the ceiling above…

Ironically, Ron and Hermione are not there, because they are the ones Harry really wants to see.

"Oh, Dear, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley has spotted his stomach. "What…"

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley, I'm pregnant,"

The announcement turns out to be quite a stunner. For a long, awkward moment everyone is just staring at him. Not the face though. The boy starts wondering if this is what Lavender Brown feels like.

How nice of Albus Dumbledore to allow Harry to tell everyone himself. By the glare Snape sends in the Headmaster's direction, the boy can tell that he would have appreciated some kind of warning. However, that is not the way Albus Dumbledore does things, is it?

Since this time, Harry is not the one who has just been taken by surprise, he does not mind.

The silence starts getting on his nerves though.

"Was there anything you wanted?" He inquires almost innocently and flattens his palms against his stomach.

It is probably very wrong, but he feels grim kind of satisfaction when for a moment he sees shock and explosive anger cross Snape's face before the man manages to school his face into the usual mask of impassive hostility that he usually uses on his students.

"My dear boy," the Headmaster steps forward, always the leader, and proceeds to explain that they have been very worried and that he wants to know where Harry has been for all this time and, blah, blah, blah…

"I have been safe and it's not really your business, where," Harry states very simply. He is being spiteful. The boy knows that. It is childish for sure, but Harry is only seventeen and has never been allowed to be a child. This might be his last chance, because when the baby will be born, he will have to be the adult in their little family, ready or not.

Besides, he has felt so angry, so betrayed and it is better to show a bit of petty spite than to start shouting and raving. He can't really afford that. Harry must think of his little girl.

Remus Lupin looks like he's about to cry, Mr. Weasley is apparently uncomfortable with the whole situation, McGonagall is disapproving, her lips thinner than a needle's eye the boy would have to squeeze through if he ever wanted to get back into her favour. Molly is surprised, but her surprise is changing into excitement right in the front of Harry's eyes. Albus Dumbledore is apprehensive and Snape is trying to hide whatever he is feeling, but the knuckles of his clenched fists are so white that Harry expects to see blood dripping down on the Infirmary floor any moment now.

"You have just gone too far, Potter—"

"Severus," Dumbledore chides with fatherly gentleness.

"Harry we care about you deeply, you must understand. When you suddenly vanished without a trace, we were worried."

"I am back and I am perfectly alright, so there is nothing to worry about, is there?" Harry sticks out his chin. Why would he tell them about his sanctuary?

"'Alright', are you?" Snape's voice is like liquid ice that against all odds scorches instead of freezing. The man has always had very impressive voice. Harry thinks he could conquer countries with it.

"Everyone has been looking for you, Potter! And when I thought that I had seen the apex of your irresponsibility…" He gestures at Harry's stomach. "And I can see very well, that you are 'alright', if one can call it that."

"I am having a baby, a perfectly healthy baby," Harry grounds out; he does not care for what his dear husband has just implied. There is nothing wrong with his little one.

"And it is not my fault that people are incapable of leaving me alone, isn't it? I left a note. Didn't you find it? If I remember correctly, it said, that I left, because I wanted to leave."

It is not his fault, if people refuse to listen.

"Why Harry! Why!" Molly exclaims wringing her hands.

"Because I wanted to," what else can Harry tell them without baring his soul, which he is not going to do.

"You selfish…"

"And what if I am?" Harry challenges the father of his child. He can glare too and can be selfish if he wants and can tell everyone to bugger off if he wants and Severus Snape is not going to be the one who will stop him!

"Let's not argue," Lupin interrupts. "What is important now is that Harry has returned and I think we should try not to upset him."

The boy wants to snort. He I the least upset person in the room right now.

Molly Weasley takes Lupin's words to heart and starts fussing over Harry, trying to assure him that everything is going to be all right and insists that everyone left now; because the 'poor boy' needs his rest and they could continue the discussion later.

"It's fine Harry, we will support you, we will think about something…" she soothes.

Harry has just woken up and he does not need any tucking in, comforting, or anything at all. He doesn't have heart to brush her off, because she means well and she is Ron's Mum and the first time the Harry met Mrs. Weasley he thought she was the Goddess of Motherhood and Domesticity or something like that. But sometimes the witch is just too much.

"I just had breakfast!" Harry finally snaps when Mrs. Weasley inquires if he would like a snack.

She looks startled and Harry apologizes and asks after Ron and Hermione, before anyone can say anything else. He is informed that they have gone home this morning. The winter holidays have started. Harry is sure that his friends would have stayed if someone had told them that he was back. Apparently, no one bothered to. He shoots an accusing look towards Dumbledore.

"There are many things we still need to discuss, Harry…" the Headmaster tries somewhat sternly. He is wearing an expression of mild disappointment. Harry is relieved to realise that he doesn't really care and doesn't feel inclined to allow the old man to guilt him into anything.

"No," he says. Not now. He is tired. It's actually true.

The Headmaster shakes his head, not ready to back down. Snape also looks like he has more to say.

Harry is unyielding though; he accuses them of giving him a headache.

When everyone, but Mr. Weasley, look like they are not going to leave, he calls for Madame Pomfrey. Harry makes a complaint about the headache and she rapidly evocates everyone from the Hospital Wing, refusing to listen to their objections.

Harry looks after them and wonders if he is being too harsh. After all, he does not hate them, not even Severus. Hate is a very strong word; it has to be reserved for Dark Lord's and Malfoys. It is a bit disturbing, to acknowledge that he hates Draco Malfoy. Nowhere as strongly as Voldemort during his fifth year, but enough. Still, for some reason Harry can't really say the same about Severus, even if he feels, he should.

Harry has few hours of peace before his self-appointed guardians return ready to continue discussing 'the situation'.

Molly is looking at him with a beaming smile.

It looks that she has been chosen to speak with him this time. She starts with declaring that they are oh so happy to have him back and have decided that if Harry is not ready to talk about his reasons for leaving or tell them where he has spent the last months, then they are not going to pressure him. For now.

Harry is graciously allowed to reveal everything when he is ready. When, not, if.

The boy can't really believe the arrogance of those people. True, once he would have accepted the insinuation that he owes them something, but not anymore. Harry sees some things more clearly now.

He does not feel like he owes Dumbledore, because it has never been him who the old wizard had tried to keep safe, but the Wizarding World. It has never been him, whose mentor the Headmaster has been, but The Boy Who Lived. He is not that anymore. Now he is just Harry.

He owes Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for their kindness, but not as much as they are asking of him.

He doesn't owe Remus Lupin for teaching him the Patronus, because it is the least the man could do for the son and godson of his best friends.

And Snape… well, Harry considers all his debts to Severus paid with interest.

Molly keeps talking, unaware of Harry's growing annoyance. She explains that his situation really has been discussed.

"You have missed much of school, but if you work very hard, it will not be impossible for you to get ready for your NEWTs, the Professors could tutor you privately. You will catch up in no time, Harry. And for the little one… well, you don't have to worry. Me and Arthur, we will take it."

Now, the boy's mouth really hangs open, he can't believe what he is hearing.

"E-excuse me?"

"We will take him, until you finish the school, of course, or until you are ready to become a parent. It is a great responsibility and a full time job," she chuckles and pats Harry's arm.

"Oh, but it will be so sweet to have a baby in the house again! I understand what you must be feeling, being a boy and so young Harry, you have nothing to feel ashamed for. When the child will be older it will be easier…"

"What?" Harry gives her an incredulous look. "You think I don't want my child? And it's not him, it's her."

Then she starts assuring him that there is no reason to be ashamed if he is not ready to be a parent and it is all understandable and no one expects a teenage boy to be alright with this. And while it is not really natural, she thinks that the baby will be perfectly normal… and even if it will not, they will love him… err, her, anyway…

That is the last drop.

"Shut up!" Harry cries out and Madame Pomfrey immediately rushes to his side ready to remove whoever has been harassing her patient.

Harry shakes his head and waves her off. He is furious, but wants to have this conversation now and never return to it.

Mrs. Weasley looks as if she's been hexed with something really nasty.

"I do not need your help. I am perfectly comfortable with my pregnancy and my child and more than ready to raise her. Myself. By myself," he glances at Severus whose expression as often is unreadable. Harry tries to convince himself that he doesn't care.

"I returned only to get help with delivery and because it wouldn't be fair to raise her where I was staying anyway. Not because I thought, I needed someone to help me with the baby. Besides Madame Pomfrey, that is. I was happy enough to be away from everyone. I left, because it became too much, if you really have to know," for some reason he can't reveal what happened with Severus, but even if his husband's betrayal has pushed Harry and made him leave, it isn't all.

Those were much subtler betrayals.

Hell, he thinks, if they want to know his reasons so badly, why not to give them what they are craving so badly.

"You know, having a child puts everything into a different perspective. While I accept that some of the things that happened to me were necessary, I would never have wanted or allowed them to happen to my own child. Weird kind of double standard, but that's how it is. You, Mrs. Weasley, of all people, should understand."

He glances at the witch, who still has not recovered from the shock of being yelled at by their Golden Boy. Doesn't matter, she deserves to get a dose of reality.

"I would never allow her to live with someone who was abusing her for years. I would never allow her to be in danger in her school, to fight giant snakes and face dragons and Dark Lords at the age of fourteen and… I would never allow her to marry someone who hates her and… "

"God, I would never sacrifice her life for anything. Not for the whole world, not for the greater good or whatever fantasy of yours! I would have found another way… I will go till the end of the world to keep her happy and safe! She will never go through what I did! Not while I am breathing!"

Harry is breathing very hard right now and purposely not looking at anyone, unwilling to see their expressions. He also doesn't have to face anything he doesn't want to, sod the unofficial Gryffindor code of honour.

"Of course not,—" Albus Dumbledore is cajoling, he looks appropriately sad and sorry, but it doesn't make Harry feel any better and he doesn't let the Headmaster to continue with the excuses that are about to follow.

"I don't want to see you close to my daughter, Headmaster. Never. I don't even want you to look at her. Excuse me if I can't appreciate you trying to find new parents for her, but that won't be necessary."

Harry knows very well that he is being unreasonable and somewhat unfair, but there is this little, precious creature so close to his heart and he is not going to take any risks with her.

McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley look appalled and shocked and Remus Lupin incredibly sad. He can't even look at Seve… Snape.

"I am seventeen," Harry reminds them. "I am legally an adult and I don't care if you don't agree. I will buy or rent a house in Hogsmeade. After she's born, I will move there and raise my daughter. You," he points at Albus Dumbledore. "Are never coming close to us. With the rest of you, well, I guess time will show."

"Harry..."

He doesn't even care who is trying to placate him now. Harry is not going to listen.

"No, I have decided. If you don't want me here, I will go to St. Mungo's. And if anyone will try anything against us, I will make you regret it. I will use any means available. Even my fame."

Before anyone has recovered from the shock Harry's words have caused, Poppy Pomfrey ushers them out of the Hospital Wing.

Harry picks up one of the books on baby care that the mediwitch has brought him and starts reading. The boy has realised that he knows next to nothing about babies.

**5.**

For a moment, Severus thinks he sees the ghost of Lily Evans embodied in her son when he talks about protecting his child. It sends shivers down the Potions Master's spine.

He has a vision of her standing by the crib, ready to take on even The Dark Lord

himself to protect her spawn.

Severus can't describe his feelings the moment the Headmaster lets him know that Potter is alive and has just turned up at Hogwart's Infirmary. And no words would really express what he feels the moment the brat announces that he is pregnant. As if, it wasn't obvious enough.

Only for a moment, Severus considers possibility that it could be his. He simply can't believe that he could have created something like a child. A child with Potter is even less plausible. No, it is impossible.

When he sees the boy, Severus commands all the other emotions besides fury drain away and the fury that takes over is great.

Severus keeps scowling, when Albus asks for his opinion and insists that he doesn't have one. Stubbornly. Lupin sighs in exasperation; Minerva keeps giving him disapproving looks. Molly appears to be truly miffed that someone can be so callous; that is what she probably thinks of his attitude.

They continue to discuss 'the situation' without Severus' input.

He doesn't say anything, when Molly Weasley insists, that Harry must be distraught by everything and offers to take the child. It is probably her youngest son's offspring anyway.

He personally thinks that Potter is nowhere near distraught. Severus has seen the boy distraught. This is just not it. The brat seems to be almost proud as a mother-to-be. Furthermore, Potter looks happy or at least content.

Potter dares to be happy when Severus hasn't had a good night of sleep for months! He wants to scream when he looks at the boy, but keeps silent. They are not entitled to know his inner thoughts and feelings. Severus doesn't make a habit of advertising his vulnerability.

When they gather to pay Potter another visit in the afternoon, Severus is in a much fouler mood than previously. He has made it perfectly clear than he wants nothing to do with the brat, but naturally the Headmaster insists.

Whatever, while Severus can't stand the sight of the brat, he is curious about the outcome of the whole affair.

It never goes the way he has expected with Potter, Severus should have learned that lesson already, shouldn't he? He has never heard anyone talking to Albus Dumbledore the way Potter does. No doubt, some of the adults in the room have wanted though. Severus almost staggers under the weight of his jealousy and shame. He is the one of those who has never dared.

The boy turns into a snarling lion protecting his cub. He is unrelenting. Potter stops the Headmaster from placating him before the old man has even opened his mouth, which is a smart thing to do, without doubt.

Severus is involuntarily impressed and hates Potter for it.

He takes some comfort in ignoring Albus, when the old coot voices his concern and urges Severus to try reasoning with 'his husband'.

Reason to what end? For once Severus doubts the Headmaster really knows what is that he wants of his Golden child. It looks more as if he is trying to re-establish control over Potter with everything he does and says. Implying that the boy 'might be distraught and might not know, what would be the best for him' and trying to ship Potter's spawn off to Molly Weasley.

Dumbledore's concern is probably genuine. He has kept a tight rein on Potter, it is questionable if someone who is used to be controlled in almost every aspect of his life, can manage on his own.

But Severus' refuses to make it his problem.

He is not going to assist the Headmaster in harnessing his renegade pet Hero.

What should he do? Go to Potter and tell him to do as the Headmaster says, as soon as the old codger decides what is that, he wants the boy to do? Ridiculous. Albus should let the boy be.

Oh, but Severus wants to go to Potter, to talk to the boy face to face.

He wants to vent his anger, to make the brat feel at least some of the fury, desperation, worry Severus has been experiencing since he has realised that his young husband was not coming back. He wants to make Potter's heart clench the way Severus' did, when he started up in the middle of the night after seeing the boy bloody, lying in a ditch, dead. Or cut open with his razor.

Merlin, but it took The Potions Master some time to figure out, why would the boy want to take that with him. Not as a token of remembrance, of that he was sure. Then Severus remembers the way Potter acts after defeating The Dark Lord. Remembers the boy's dull, lifeless eyes after Black's death. It suddenly makes so much sense.

But he doesn't tell anyone. Severus lets them look for the boy, even if a part of him, the rational one, which is obviously much smaller than he had always believed, knows that there is probably nothing to look for. Because there is another part of him, that refuses to accept that Potter is no more.

Then the boy comes back. No warning, nothing and it's not even Severus whom he returns to, not that Severus has expected that, but, but there is always that 'but' and there are always fools and will always be, but the Potions Master has never considered himself as one of them, but probably is the biggest…

Yes, but Potter returns and lies there content, happy and so very protective of another man's brat that he is carrying so merrily!

He is not sorry at all; the damn boy doesn't show the slightest regret. Severus want to make him regret, to make Potter pay for all the anguish his disappearance has put him through!

But he doesn't. Even if Severus knows that the boy is right there in the Hospital Wing, he doesn't seek him out. He can't let Potter know of his weakness, he can't allow the boy to know, how much power Harry has over him. How much whatever Potter does affects Severus, how much suffering Potter can bring him.

The Potions Master is afraid of what could happen if he was let alone with the boy. Even pregnant with another man's child Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, his seventeen years young husband is the most beautiful creature Severus has ever laid eyes on. Still. Such a small, brave, innocent looking, treacherous creature.

Severus curses the day James Potter was born. Would the man be proud to know that he is responsible for creating the perfect torture for his school nemesis, despicable Snivellius?

But despite everything, he is still glad that Potter is there, that he has returned alive and breathing. How sad is that?

**6.**

Of course, no one asks Harry to leave Hogwarts. They probably don't want to let him out of sight.

He stays in the Infirmary, under Madame Pomfrey's sometimes-overbearing care and studies books for young parents.

Harry also owls Gringotts to inquire about his finances. The boy is afraid that he might not have galleons to back his independence. He is realistic enough to realize that independence costs and babies do too.

Harry is immensely relieved, when he finds out that he has inherited what seems enough money to support both of them at least for some time.

About two days later Madame Pomfrey announces that she really doesn't think it would be wise for Harry to leave the Hospital Wing, because with an almost fully developed birthing canal, he could go into labour any time.

The boy winces. Labour. He is not going to admit it, but that part of baby-having is making his feet a bit cold.

"You wouldn't want it to happen in the middle of Hogsmeade, would you?"

The mediwitch looks very surprised when the boy doesn't protest at all.

Harry simply shrugs, he really wouldn't want it to happen in the middle of Hogsmeade.

"How unexpected, Mr. Potter," Poppy Pomfrey smiles and pats his arm. "You have become a model patient."

Harry's blushes at that.

Later that day Harry owls Remus Lupin and asks him for a meeting.

It's Christmas, when the ex-professor comes, looking even more haunted than usually, but Harry refuses to worry. He asks Remus for a favour, he can't go gallivanting around Hogsmeade and he needs someone to find him a house. Lupin looks doubtful and wants to know, if Harry is sure, is it wise. It is apparent that he wants to ask even more, but doesn't quite dare.

Harry has decided. He wants to move as soon as the baby is born. The boy implies that if Lupin can't help him, he should just say so and Harry would ask someone else.

He doesn't say that aloud, but Harry actually ant to have the man in his life even if he doesn't quite know, where Lupin stands in all of this. Yes, Harry admits that this is kind of a test.

"I am worried about you," Remus reveals, before he relents with a sigh and then pulls a parcel out of his sling bag.

He has brought Harry a Christmas present. At first, the boy is a bit wary. But when he opens the box and lets his fingertips run over the softest light pink baby blanket he has ever seen. Harry hugs the werewolf as tight as he can manage with the enormous stomach between them and forgives Lupin for everything, even before the man asks Harry to forgive him for not being there and even sheds a couple of tears.

It's Christmas after all.

Harry hopes that it is a good present to his friends, when he writes them. He tells Ron and Hermione that he has returned and looking forward to seeing them and that he is alright and sorry.

They reply him the next day insisting that they will return to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Harry is a bit baffled that Mrs. And Mr. Weasley hasn't told Ron before. He doesn't want to ruin their holidays with their families, but can't help being a bit selfish. The boy has tired of being alone or having only Madame Pomfrey for company.

Not that Harry is gagging for the Headmaster to visit him.

Harry is surprised that Snape hasn't stopped by. At least to yell at him, if not for any other reason. Of course, someone like Severus Snape would not find a child they have created together worth discussing!

It is really infuriating and something beyond his comprehension.

Harry tries to be reasonable. He is ready to accept that the man doesn't care for him, that he is not what Severus wants. It even makes sense. After all, they have nothing in common, Harry is a Gryffindor who has been forced on the other man and… yeah, there is Draco Malfoy, who is aristocratic, gorgeous, smart and a Slytherin.

It is harder to accept that the man hasn't been honest with him. That he toyed with Harry's feelings, made him believe that…

However, it is not his daughters fault. She is going to need both of her parents. Harry who has had none can't begrudge his little girl her other father. He as even decided to buy a house at Hogsmeade for that reason, to stay close. But what is the point, if the damned bastard has not even had decency to come and talk to him?

Doesn't he care at all?

However Ron and Hermione obviously do care. They burst into the Hospital wing completely ignoring Madam Pomfrey's protests and almost smother Harry in their arms. He is not complaining though.

Ron and Hermione are upset with him and shocked about the pregnancy. Hermione lectures him and Ron broods, but they forgive him very fast. Apparently, they are too happy to have their friend back and in good health.

Ron thinks Harry's pregnant belly is the weirdest thing he has ever seen. He looks to be having hard time deciding if he wants to touch it or doesn't.

Hermione is not that easy to please, she keeps eyeing Harry's pregnant belly and chest with frightening degree of curiosity.

"Oh, no, 'Mione, don't even start," the boy shakes his head. "No questions, research male pregnancies if you want, but I am not going to discuss this with you! No details, alright?"

The girl pouts, but Ron grins and gives him thumbs up.

Then he grows serious and tells Harry that his Mum is kind of upset with him. As if Harry has not noticed, the lack of the Weasley sweater on the Boxing Day, rather made him suspect that not everything was alright.

"She didn't even tell me, you were back mate. Until you wrote though," after Ron had received the letter, he confronted his parents and found out exactly what Molly Weasley thought about Harry.

"Mum says she doesn't recognise you anymore, that you are disrespectful and ungrateful and so on and maybe you are really sick and need help, if that's the case, she says, she will forgive you, after you get treatment, that is. I think she'll come around, though."

Harry snorts. So someone has been implying that there is something wrong with him. Not for the first time. He has lived with worse.

Ron has had a fight with his mother about coming to see Harry and apparently doesn't agree with her. That worries Harry, but Ron simply shrugs and says that it is going to be alright.

"I am a big boy, you know? Can't be hanging off my Mom's apron strings forever,"

When they get to asking him, **why**, why did he leave, the boy is not sure what to say. The words accusing Severus of betrayal simply refuse to come out and to simply say, that everything got too much for him, doesn't quite describe what happened.

"I just have to," Harry finally says after babbling for five minutes without making much sense or point. "I had to get away for a while."

Surprisingly it satisfies his best friends. Hermione squeezes his hand and changes the topic.

She asks Harry, what is he going to name the little girl.

"Claudia," Harry answers with a smile. "Her name is going to be Claudia Lily Potter … Snape."

He has no idea, what is the meaning of the name, he doesn't even remember, where he has heard it. However, Harry likes 'Claudia' and it is common enough name and surely can't mean anything too bad. But if Hermione likes, she can research that as well.

**7.**

Harry has his first contraction early in the morning on the January 2, three days after Madame Pomfrey announces that his birth canal is fully formed. The mediwitch immediately contacts St. Mungo's and two more healers arrive through the floo. Harry calls Dobby and asks him to inform Ron and Hermione.

Both of his friends arrive five minutes later and Harry has to tell them, that everything is just starting and probably it will be hours before the baby is born. Nevertheless, they don't mind, they stay by his side for six hours, until the baby is finally ready to arrive and while Ron goes pale and leaves to wait outside, Hermione out-glares Madame Pomfrey and Mungo's Healers and stays by his side allowing him to clutch her arm.

Harry will be grateful forever. Hermione is never going to give birth herself.

It hurts. It hurts like hell and feels like his body still hasn't adjusted enough for the ordeal, even with all the subtle and not so subtle changes the boy has endured. His hips still feel too narrow and the birth canal too tight.

Harry swears this is going to be his first and only child.

everyone keeps assuring the boy that it is alright, that everything is going as it is supposed to go and then Harry looses his temper and shouts at Pomfrey, the Healers and Hermione to shut up. He is feeling nowhere alright!

No one minds him though. One of the Healers even encourages Harry 'to let it out'. Whatever 'it' is.

It seems like hours of pain, sweat and blood and Harry almost comes to giving up and demanding that they sedate him and just cut her out, but then, feeling a bit dazed from exhaustion he hears a cry somewhere in the background, His child's first cry, and knows that it is over.

No, it is not over. This is just a beginning.

Hermione props the glasses back on his nose, so Harry can not only feel his little girl lying on his chest, but see her as well. Glasses don't really help though, because his eyes are full of tears and everything is blurry anyway.

"Claudia," he whispers in wonder, and despite the ache in the back of his neck and almost everywhere else, leans to press a kiss against the furry top of her head.

**8.**

Madam Pomfrey corners Severus on his way back to the Dungeons right after lunch. She looks irritated beyond measure or upset in that particular matron-y manner of hers. The Potions Master is not sure which one it is, and does it matter?

Politely he inquires if she wanted something and that causes the mediwitch to compress her lips into an even thinner line.

It is 'I am at my wits end with you' expression and apparently, Severus has been wrong thinking that Minerva holds the copyright for that particular look. He would never accuse Poppy Pomfrey of plagiarising expressions.

"When are you going to see your child, Severus?" The mediwitch demands with all the sternness accumulated during the years of dealing with naughty schoolboys.

Severus' temper flares up and for a moment, he is very tempted to remind her that he is long past the schooling age and tell her to mind her own business! But that would be showing weakness, besides grown ups are capable of controlling their tempers.

"She is nineteen inches, six and a half pounds. A bit small, but healthy,"

And why would Severus care? Why would he want to know about the reminder that Harry isn't his and he never really has been and and never will be?

But of course, it has never mattered, what Severus wants and what he doesn't. The infuriating woman just goes on, on, and on… well, she actually doesn't, she just keeps staring at him!

"I don't care!" Severus has finally had enough.

She looks as if she has been slapped.

But recovers fast to demand to know, how he can be so cold, so indifferent to his own child!

"My child? Mine!" Severus sneers. "Does Potter really have the impudence to claim it's mine!"

He feels smug satisfaction when the mediwitch looks really taken aback and at the loss of words for once. But not for long.

"Merlin, Severus," she sighs. "You are unbelievable… but you know; I have never seen so dark eyes or such a big nose on a little girl. Poor thing," and with that she spins around and strides away in the direction of Hospital Wing.

At first, Severus refuses to believe the meddling, old witch. It can't be his child, after all Weasley is the one who comes from the most progenitive family in the Wizarding World. It is only logical that after consorting with Snape and a Weasley, it would be a Weasley, who would manage to knock the little slut up!

But of course, logic takes rest, when it comes to Potter!

No, Severus has no reason not to believe Pomfrey. Why would she deceive him?

Once again, destiny proves its cruelty when it comes to Severus. It is already too hard to get Potter out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries and now his wicked luck ties them together with another tie.

Their daughter. His daughter.

Merlin, but he has a daughter, he and Potter, they have a daughter.

However, it is another day until Severus finds himself at the door that leads into the Hospital Wing.

Severus decides that Potter looks calmer and much more content than any male who has given birth wee three days ago should ever look.

Their eyes lock the moment Severus crosses the threshold of the private room that has been given to the boy. And the baby. There is a crib right next to the bed. The Potions Master can't see the child from where he is standing, so he can't avoid reducing the distance between him and the boy.

Why couldn't Potter be more like Narcissa Malfoy, who refused to look at Draco for more than a week after giving birth? Then he would have plenty of opportunities to see the child without seeing his… other father.

The calm, green eyes are boring into his in a very unnerving way.

"So," the boy is the first to break the silence. "You want to see your daughter after all."

The calmness, the complacence, the cheek of the boy, it is finally more than Severus can stand for.

"I couldn't be sure if it was mine, could I?" He turns against Potter his nastiest sneer.

The green eyes widen.

"Wha-a-at?" The boy splutters. Then slowly the realisation dawns upon him.

"How dare you!"

Severus just keeps sneering, he is sure, and Potter is capable of accusing himself on his own. But the boy is no the one to play by the rules. Two red blotches adorn his pretty cheeks.

"You are accusing me of infidelity," the boy lets out a hysterical laugh. "That's rich… that's really rich."

Whatever he wants to say next is interrupted by a sound that comes from the crib. A very quiet mewling noise, barely audible. However, Potter's attention immediately shifts, it is as if Severus ceases existing as if the whole world ceases existing for the boy and all that is left is the tiny bundle he is now holding in his arms.

"Shh, don't fret, princess, your bottle will be here any minute now,"

The baby obviously really can wait as long as he is held and cooed at.

"You wanted to see her," Potter lifts his eyes to look at Severus. "I doubt you see much from there."

It is annoying, to be beckoned like that, but Severus' feet are already carrying him closer. Potter shifts the pink bundle to give The Potions Master a better look.

She is so tiny… it is the first thought Severus has. A tiny face, a tiny, toothless mouth… Pomfrey is right; the nose is a bit prominent for the tiny, round face. She also has tuft of dark hair and long black eyelashes enclose eyes as dark as Severus' own.

No red hair, and not a single freckle in sight.

There is no denying that the little thing is his. Damn, but she resembles Snape more than Potter. _The firstborn more often takes after the father…_Severus remembers his mother's words.

Salazar… he is a father.

TBC

Notes:

**(1.) The Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration** there are five magical objects that are an exception to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration—objects that cannot be created by magic: food, love, life, and information, money.

(2.) Here, Severus means the time he calls Lily a mudblood. I think it was revealed in the last book – how Lily and Snape stopped being friends.

It is not being revealed in the story, but I imagine that Harry's hut in the woods is some kind of old Order Safe-house that has been stocked up and probably used by Harry's parents and Sirius long time ago. When Harry dies and meets them, they probably give him a hint for when he would need it.

I had to find about the meaning of name, **Claudia**, even if Harry doesn't care, since he just likes what it sounds like. Some of you might be curious as well. Guess what I found out:

**Claudia** is a variant of the masculine **Claude**, which in turn has its origin in the Roman **Claudius**. It comes from a Roman family name which was derived from Latin claudus meaning "lame, crippled". This was the family name of several Roman emperors of the 1st century, including the emperor known simply as Claudius. Although it is usually pronounced as 'Claw-dee-ah', many people named Claudia have their names actually pronounced as 'Cloud-ee-ah'.

The name Claudia is one of the ten most popular female names in many Spanish-speaking countries and regions.

A/N: Sorry, didn't really have time to write review responses this time. But, thanks to those, who reviewed.

See, ya!


	4. Chapter 4

bAuthor: /bTheSiner

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Sacrifices Betrayals Love and Foolishness

**Word Count:** 45,000

**Chapters**: 4/4

**Genre**: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing**: Harry/Snape, Snape/Draco

**Summary**: Harry and Snape are forced to marry and it doesn't really work out that well. Harry is depressed, Snape is stubborn, and everyone else is selfish. HP/SS, slash, mpreg, A/U

**Setting:** After The Order of The Phoenix and the Department of Mysteries. Harry has just turned sixteen.

**Rating**: Nothing too terrible, a bit of sex, a bit of depressive themes.

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates. I am not making any money.

**Warnings**: slash (duh!), OOC, A/U, non-canon, angsty, emotional, dubious consent(somewhat), male pregnancy is more than just mentioned, not beta-edited, may seem disturbing, door-mat-ish Harry, some grammar errors.

…**Love…**

**1.**

Severus is looming over Harry and Claudia, who is peacefully munching on a pink pacifier. The Potions Master is studying the little girl with an unreadable expression on his face. The boy is not sure, how it makes him feel. Partly he is relieved, because the man is finally there; the long waiting for him to show up is finally over.

Another part is angry. Almost furious, because, damn it! Harry spends about two weeks in the hospital wing and Snape shows up only now, when everything is almost over! And the things he is implying!

For a moment, the boy feels an urge to shout at the damn bastard to get out, to yell at him, that Claudia is only his and his alone and he will never let Snape see her… _You can rot in Hell, you horrible bastard! We don't need you! Claudia will be better off without you. I don't need you! _ - that's what Harry wants to shout at his husband.

But that wouldn't be right, would it? If Snape is willing to be a better father than he is husband, Harry can't deny him that. He can't bear the thought of his little girl hating him one day, because Harry has taken away the chance to know her other father and he is not that petty, which a part of him wishes he were.

Maybe, if the boy had stayed at Hogwarts, he would have reacted emotionally and refused Snape without any better excuse than 'because I can', but he has had about half a year to think about everything, to calm down and become more reasonable.

But Harry doesn't have to be nice, does he? No, certainly not.

"So…, how have you been? How is Malfoy doing?" The boy inquires politely. More or less. But, hey, he could have asked if they were still fucking. See, Harry is being extremely polite.

Snape looks up sharply. He is startled and doesn't manage to hide it as well as usually. The Potions Master has not expected Harry to be so blunt.

"No, wait, I don't really want to know," Harry makes a face and almost can't hold back his smirk. It is not so easy to get a reaction out of the 'Mister Former Spy'. Bully for Harry.

Snape's mouth sets in a hard, firm line.

But the expected sense of satisfaction doesn't come. Instead, Harry suddenly feels tired and sick of all the games, duplicity and subtle manipulations.

He feels like being direct, not only playing at it.

"I saw you. The night before I left. With Malfoy bent over the desk in your classroom," the boy can't help it, the disgust he feels shows in his expression and the words scratch against his throat coming out with a raspy undertone. But it doesn't matter. He has to say this and he wants to get over with it.

He is tired of staying quiet and trying to understand people who don't deserve his consideration.

What Snape deserves is all the abuse Harry is capable of, because it is his fault that Harry will be carrying a mental image of Malfoy having sex with him for the rest of his life.

The boy knows that he is on the verge of sounding bitter, but doesn't really care. He has right to feel the way he feels.

Harry's dear husband doesn't say anything, but the boy can feel the dark eyes scrutinizing him. Harry keeps looking at his daughter. She is his strength.

"You should have simply told me," the boy continues, his fingertips gently running over Claudia's dark, downy hair. It is too early to tell, whom she will take after. Except the nose, yes, there is no doubt whose that nose is.

If Snape had told Harry to go away, Harry would have.

He really doesn't understand Snape. Did the man wanted to have them both? Him and Malfoy? That's just disgusting. Sick.

"If you wanted to…" bollocks, it's bloody harder than he thought it would be. "Did you have to show it in my face!"

Harry thinks that he can hear Snape's teeth ground, even if his expression remains impassive, but when the man opens his mouth, his words are not, what he has been expecting.

"Are you telling me, that you left because of what you saw?"

Harry looks up and now he is caught in the cool, evaluating gaze.

He kind of did, didn't he? There's no denying that. If there were other pretences, well, they were just that, pretences.

Oh, shit, shit, shit… Harry bites his lip. He is stupid, stupid, stupid! Harry has just made perfectly clear that he cares pretty damn much about what Snape is doing and with whom.

He has admitted to being hurt by his husband's unfaithfulness.

Poor Harry Potter. Used and then betrayed and feeling forced to run away.

But Snape doesn't make fun of what a sentimental, silly, naïve fool Harry is.

He steps back, crosses arms over his chest and sneers at Harry.

"Ah, so I am the bad one now? You little, self-righteous… " Snape swallows the expletive, that much is obvious. "You are a hypocrite, Potter," Severus' tone is somewhat mocking, but his voice so velvety soft that it slides up the boy's spine like a secret caress leaving a trail of tingling hotness in it's wake.

Harry grits his teeth. She hates it, that Snape can get to him like this.

"Is this, where I inquire about Mr. Weasleys health?"

Ron? Why is Snape talking about Ron now? What does he has to do with anything?

Seeing that Snape is obviously waiting for an answer, Harry repeats the question aloud. It is becoming frustrating. The havoc a short conversation with Severus Snape can wreck within Harry's mind and soul…gha!

But then, the tightening of the man's jaw is a telltale sign that he is also not as impassive as he wants Harry to think.

"You have impudence to ask!" Snape bellows and leans over the bed, closer to Harry. The boy can smell him from there… there is the same, spicy scent; he has never been able to name. Harry forces himself to stay in place, not to shrink back in the pillows or to lean forward, closer.

"What are you on about? And keep it down," Harry shifts Claudia in his arms.

Snape's lips twitch in anger, but his eyes turn towards the baby and he lowers his voice: "I saw you as well, Potter. With Weasley. Or have you already forgotten about it? Wasn't he the only one you were professing your love to?"

Harry is more confused than ever. He has a feeling like he is missing something. What is so special about fact that Snape has seen him with Ron? And professing love? What kind of nonsense is this?

"Am I not allowed to have friends!" It is a dumb thing to say, but, yeah…

"So that what's you call it? Whom else did you get friendly with? Be so kind, enlighten me!"

The man is furious, his dark eyes are ablaze with anger and Harry can't fathom why he would be so angry because of him being friends with someone! That is going too far even for Snape!

"I won't let you make a fool of me! I saw you with Weasley, I heard you telling him, how much you loved him!" Snape accuses in harsh whisper. He doesn't yell, but the impact is about the same.

Harry closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the headboard, and then tells Severus that it is not Harry who is making fool of anyone. Severus is the one who has made a fool of himself. A small, mirthless laugh almost escapes him, but then sticks somewhere in his neck.

"Oh, I love Ron dearly. He is my best friend. Like a brother to me. You will probably not believe me, since it is obvious that it's all so clear to you and you know everything and nothing I can say will convince you," Harry isn't really sure why he wants to convince the man, it shouldn't matter. But he has not been dishonest and he is the one who has been slighted and for some reason he wants Severus to admit that. "There hasn't been anything like that between Ron and me. It would be impossible with him attracted only to witches. Do you understand the concept? Heterosexual. Brotherly love?"

That moment a house elf arrives with a pop and announces that little Mistress' bottle is ready.

It reminds Harry that there are more important matters than his relationship with Severus and it seems somehow improper to have this conversation in the presence of Claudia.

"I really don't understand you and I don't think you have ever understood me. I don't care if you believe me or not," he lies.

In fact, Snape's distrust feels like sandpaper rubbing against Harry's very being. He has given the man everything he has. Shouldn't he be given a benefit of doubt?

He has never done what Snape is trying to accuse him of. It makes him shudder, when Harry recalls what he saw that night in the Potions classroom. Snape and Malfoy. Could it be that Snape did it because he really thought Harry was going with Ron behind his back?

He can't look at the other man right now. The boy keeps his eyes on Claudia's tiny, beautiful face and her suckling, greedy mouth. He thinks her eyes are starting to change the colour from the grey she's been born with to green. Madam Pomfrey says it happens.

He is aware that Severus is watching them for a while, and then he leaves right before Harry lifts Claudia on his shoulder to burp her.

**2.**

Severus knows that he has to return to the Hospital Wing the next day. But what then?

Where do they stand?

The girl is obviously his. Severus' every cell is screaming 'Yours!' at him. Bone of his bone, blood of his blood.

Despite everything, Severus takes almost perverse pleasure in the fact that, no matter what, he and Potter will be forever together in their child. No matter, how incompatible they are one with another, their blood will merge perfectly in the little creature in Potter's arms. Even if the boy will come to despise and loathe him, there will always be a part of Severus that he will never stop to treasure.

They need to discuss the situation, make arrangements. What arrangements? Severus is not completely sure.

He recalls having heard Potter say something about a house in Hogsmeade. Not a bad idea. It is close to Hogwarts and he could visit Claudia as often as he wished. Is that what Potter has on his mind? Is he going to allow Snape free access to his child?

Of course he is! Potter will not deny Severus that.

Claudia is not the issue. It seems that Potter is going to be sensible and is not going to use their daughter to hurt Severus. The boy would be too noble to blackmail Severus with his daughter.

And, so, there comes the issue. Potter. Weasley. Severus. Malfoy. Potter trying to convince him that there has been nothing between him and Weasley, that he has never lied to Severus, never cheated, never betrayed.

Of course, he would say that…

But, why? For what purpose?

Severus hates being confused about anything. But, while everything in him is screaming that Potter is nothing more than a traitorous whore, he can't deny, that none of it is making any sense.

What sense does any of it make? Why would he deny liaison with Weasley? Why would he be so hurt by seeing Severus with Draco? Hurt enough to leave Hogwarts, to leave behind his little, annoying friends and everything he has. Why didn't Potter just pack his trunk and returned to the Gryffindor tower, where Weasley was already waiting, ready to entertain the boy.

Cold sweat prickle at the nape of Severus' neck. He has a feeling about this and not a good one.

He doesn't want to… no, but he has to know.

Severus is afraid that he is going to make a fool out of himself once again, but, nevertheless, he seeks out Ron Weasley.

Strangely enough, Severus finds the redhead sitting outside in the Quidditch stands alone, deep in thought. The potions Master wouldn't have thought that Weasley was the brooding type.

He has given the boy some thought. Severus sees Weasley as someone who is loud, boisterous, Gryffindor, good at Quidditch, easygoing, friendly, good-looking, young and popular – in one word, everything Severus is not.

Brooding does not fit the boy, or maybe it does and Severus simply doesn't want to face this solemn version of Weasley. Reluctantly the Potions Master admits that his perceptions are often shaped by his emotions.

"Weasley," Severus drawls. The teenager is so deep in thought that he has not even noticed that he is no longer alone.

"Sna… Professor Snape. What are you doing here?"

For a moment, Severus contemplates replying with some acidic remark, but restrains himself. This is not the time.

"I am here to talk to you, Mr. Weasley,"

"Alright. Talk then. Sir." Weasley allows with a benevolence of a king.

Impudent. Disrespectful.

"About my husband," it will not hurt to remind the whelp once more.

And it hits the mark, judging by darkening of Weasley's expression. Then he looks Severus straight in the eye.

"Sure. What's about him? You know, he didn't tell me anything or Hermione, or anyone at all, but I know that he ran away because of something you did. He was happy, very happy despite everything and then suddenly he's gone!"

Severus grounds his teeth together and snaps at the boy, tells him to mind his own business.

"It is my business!" Weasley snaps back, his face turning unattractively red, starting with ears. "I am his friend! Harry doesn't have anyone closer than me! And Hermione of course. Someone has to look after him and you apparently are not. You hurt him! He doesn't have to say, it is so obvious you did. I don't understand why he keeps protecting you."

"You wasn't even there when Claudia was born," Weasley accuses. For someone like him it would be one of the mortal sins. "Harry Fancied himself in love with you, I can't really understand, why though."

Ron Weasley gives Severus a look that implies that he doesn't see, what is there to love about him. The Potions Master should give him detention with Filch for cheek, but his mind adheres to the part about Harry loving him.

Weasley doesn't care for Severus' opinion, he keeps going about Snape not deserving Harry and admits that he honestly hopes that his best friend has gotten over his feelings for Snape and promises to support the boy fully, when he will find someone better. Much better. As in anyone would be better than Snape.

Severus is annoyed enough to interrupt him in a very harsh manner: "Did you sleep with my husband?"

Weasley's mouth falls open in a mildly disgusting, but satisfying fish out of water way.

"What?"

Severus lifts an eyebrow and waits; he is not going to repeat the question. He is sure that Weasley has heard him perfectly well.

"Of course not!" Wealey's brain has finally caught up with Severus' words. "Of course not! What kind of question is that? Where did you get the idea? Why the hell you are asking me this!?"

Then the Potions Master reminds him of the kiss he has had misfortune to witness.

"Oh, that," the brat has decency to blush. "That was kind of… I am not sure, what it was, but nothing to get into a snit about, alright? It was on the spur of a moment, I guess. Harry was so happy; I had never seen him so full of life. Dunno, what came over me. I was happy for Harry and kind of wanted to show him how much or be a part of it or something like that."

"By showing your tongue into his mouth,"

The redness of Weasley's cheeks increase by a degree.

"There was no tongue! I told you already, it was not like that, not like when one kisses a girl. He is just a friend. I am not into boys at all."

Then he gives Severus a stern look.

"Listen, there was nothing… erm… sexual about it and it was me, who kissed Harry anyway, he did nothing wrong. He's… Harry is… no, he is not a saint, but he is not the cheating sort. Not that I would call it that if he found someone better than…"

"Detention, Weasley, with Filch and ten points from Gryffindor for disrespecting your professor," and touching said professor's husband.

Severus smirks; he is satisfied to hear Weasley groan behind his back as he strides away. However the smugness does not last long, it soon fades away as the realisation catches up with him.

A fool. That is exactly, what he is.

Finally, everything makes a perfect sense, but the thought painfully drumming against his forehead from inside is – what have I done…

**3.**

Severus goes to see Harry shortly before lunch is served in The Great Hall. He wants to be sure that the Hospital Wing is clear of Gryffindors.

Severus wants to talk to Harry, admit that his behaviour has been unacceptable, that he has erred. Severus has let his insecurities affect his judgement and thus made wrong, hasty conclusions.

Of course, he does not say anything of the sorts. Severus knows a lot of sophisticated words and has his way with them. When it comes to clever jibes and sharp retorts he is unparalleled, but those will not do.

He knows words that can make Hufflepuffs cry, words that can make Gryffindors loose their tempers and consequently house-points. He knows words that make Ravenclaws feel stupid and Slytherins ashamed.

Nevertheless, the Potions Master finds his repertoire somewhat lacking.

He greets the boy politely, but somewhat formally and approaches the crib. The baby is sleeping; Severus assumes that's what she is mostly doing at this stage of development.

She smells funny. Severus' keen sense of smell picks it up instantly. He hopes it is alright and there is nothing wrong with the infant. He has not been around babies much and isn't sure. It bothers Severus. He is not used to knowing next to nothing about issues that directly concern him.

His daughter. Claudia. He likes it.

"You like, what?"

Harry asks and Severus realises that he has said the last bit aloud.

"The name you gave her. Claudia," it really feels rather good, rolling off his tongue and Severus wants to repeat it. A noble, old name. Dignified.

"Good. That you like it, I mean, I would have asked you, but…" the boy chews on his lip and Severus has an inkling that he knows, what he does not want to say. 'You weren't there'. Even unsaid those words cut deep into him, maybe even deeper, because of the fact that Harry is not the one to use Severus' wrongs against him even if it is in his right to.

Severus reaches out and touches Claudia's cheek with one of his potion-stained fingers. That is all he dares. She is _tabula rasa._ What if his hand leaves a dirty imprint on her perfect, pure skin? He is undeserving.

Harry tells Severus not to worry.

"She's just had her bottle; she'll sleep like a log for at least a couple of hours now."

Severus looks at the boy and Harry shyly lowers his eyes. It is incredible, they have created a child together and he is still coy around the Potions Master.

Merlin help him, but Severus wants the boy so much right now. Right there on the hospital bed. He wants to have this proper, dedicated parent Harry has become, with his legs in the air…

Severus swallows, digs nails into his palms and asks for how long they are going to stay in the Infirmary.

Harry tells him that Pomfrey wants to keep her eye on them both for another week or so and the house is not ready yet. The house? Then Severus finds out that his husband has asked Lupin to find him a house and to fix things that needs fixing so it would be liveable.

Lupin? Severus wants to snarl. Lupin? What business does Lupin have...?

But Severus keeps the emotions off his face. After all his groundless jealousy was what got them here, wasn't it?

Therefore, he says nothing.

**4.**

During his stay in the Hospital Wing, under Madam Pomfrey's watch, Harry has learned to care for the baby pretty well. He has not really felt bored yet. Claudia is always hungry or dirty. Ron and Hermione both are usually there too.

And Severus.

Since that first time, Severus comes to see Claudia every day, when he knows that no one else will be in the Hospital Wing. It is as if he doesn't want anyone to know, that he actually is a decent man who cares about his daughter.

It is always so uncomfortable between them.

Harry keeps struggling with his incapability to hate the man. He is angry, yes, very angry, but he doesn't hate Snape. It is bloody frustrating. Harry would like to blow up properly, to have a good screaming match with the bastard. He realises that it is something that has not happened since they have been married. It has always been one-sided with Snape doing all the yelling.

Harry has plenty to say, but the man has not given him a chance yet. He's been so… constipated? so far. No, really, there isn't a better word for it. He has hardly spoken to Harry besides inquiries about practical things like Harry's living arrangements after leaving Hogwarts and so on. The boy can't get rid of the feeling that there is something Snape wants to say, but it just isn't coming out.

He has not asked to hold Claudia yet. Harry hasn't tried to suggest that he should.

They are stuck in this strange stalemate and it is driving Harry mad. A part of him feels like he should do something or say anything or…

It becomes obvious that all those months away have not been enough to erase the feelings Harry has for his husband. That is so unfair. The boy wants to be aloof, detached and practical. After all that is what they, marriage was initially meant to be like. A convenience.

Now it all should be about Claudia who needs her father. But does something ever go according to the plan? Ha! That would be refreshing, wouldn't it?

Harry can't stop the feelings that threaten to overcome him every time Snape stalks into the Hospital Wing and looms over him and Claudia. He tries to ignore the sadness he feels every time the man closes the door behind himself.

Stupid, stupid, little boy…

Today the students are returning from Christmas holidays. Harry decides that no matter how far Remus had gotten with the house, he would be leaving in two days. He doesn't want to become the spectacle of the school.

Thanks to the Daily Prophet, there probably isn't anyone who doesn't know that Harry has returned and that he has given birth. He doesn't want to see anyone, besides, maybe Neville, Luna and a couple of other Gryffindors.

He hopes that it would somehow help with his stupid feelings, if there was some distance between him and Severus.

And Harry absolutely refuses to chance running into Draco Malfoy, the one for whom Severus has exchanged him. Maybe that is cowardly, but the boy doesn't care, he is not going to suffer if he can avoid it to be able to call himself courageous. Harry reckons he has grown up.

Harry is standing by Claudia's crib, his back turned towards the door. He doesn't even turn around, when he hears the door creak open, because it is about dinnertime and that is when Severus usually visits them.

So Harry is completely unprepared when he finally looks around and finds himself face to face with Draco Malfoy. Apparently, the students have returned. The boy is not sure what to do or say. It seems pointless to ask the blonde what was that he wanted. Harry is quite sure that Malfoy wants the usual – to hurt him. What else could he be here for?

Harry's eyes seek his wand, which is lying on the bed; close enough to call it, just in case.

"Well, well, just look who has crawled out from whatever hole he has been hiding in," Malfoy's sneer never fails to make Harry feel an urge to reach for his wand and hex the particular expression off his face.

Shrouded in his superiority Malfoy lets Harry know, that he wouldn't know anything about the kind of places people like Harry are usually frequenting. Of course, not. He is, oh, so, curious.

"Are you sure that you are really a wizard, Potter?" Malfoy glances at the crib and Harry wants to prick out his eyes.

Malfoy says he would like to know what kind of lowly creatures his ancestors have fucked to turn him into such a freak. The racist prick.

At least Harry's ancestors had not made a habit of fucking their cousins. At least not after, it stopped to be socially accepted. Hermione says it was all right long, long time ago, and before people knew that inbreeding was not such a good thing.

But it is not like Malfoy shuts up and allows Harry to point out some basic truths to him. Harry has already expected the comments about his blood, his friends, his parents and pretends not to be affected by them much, which is not exactly truth.

But adults don't give bastards like Draco Malfoy what they want, by loosing their tempers, by allowing their insults to get to them. Harry is an adult now. He knows better than that.

"So, Severus did bugger you after all. Oh, I don't doubt that the brat is his. We couldn't be that lucky. The Saint Potter would never stray," Malfoy makes it sound as if fidelity was uncouth and plebeian.

"Before I really doubted that he would touch you, after all I knew that Severus had better taste," the implication is very clear.

"But I assume that since you were always there, in his bed, so needy and convenient… I bet you were just lying there and thinking of England while he was doing all the work. Mhm, of course. But who would stand that for long? Certainly not Severus, he is a passionate man after all."

Malfoy's smirk insinuates that he is intimately familiar with Snape's passion.

Harry doesn't speak up. He doesn't interrupt Malfoy or try to hex him, as he should. For some reason, the boy just stands there petrified, one of his hands gripping the side of the crib. That hand is all that keeps Harry him from swaying under the impact of Malfoy's words.

Malfoy asks if Harry is deluding himself by hoping that Severus will stay with him just because of the baby.

"Come on, Potter, Snape doesn't even like children, everyone knows that,"

Harry knows that everything Malfoy says is meant to hurt, however that doesn't mean that there is not a grain of truth in those words. It doesn't make them hurt any less. Harry wonders if Malfoy is a Legilimens. He knows too well, where to hit to make it hurt the most. Has always known.

Draco Malfoy is like a Mirror of Erised that instead of your heart's desire make you face your flaws, weaknesses and deepest fears.

"Let's be frank, Potter. It is not fair to saddle Severus with that brat of yours. It was not fair to saddle him with you… but nothing can be done about it now. But you should realise where you are not wanted, to do the right thing and…"

Malfoy is too carried away by his own speech and the affect it is having on the other boy. Harry is standing with his eyes downcast, chewing on his lips to keep them from trembling. Malfoy is right, isn't he? What right does he have to ask things of Severus, who had already sacrificed so much…

Both of them have forgotten that the ex-Death Eater and the former spy and the teacher, who has probably caught the most students out after the curfew in the History of Hogwarts, Severus Snape can turn up seemingly from nowhere, without making a sound.

"Draco!" The man growls through gritted teeth and becomes the centre of the attention.

Panic flits across Malfoy's face, but the next moment it's gone again and the blonde is as composed as ever: "Severus, how delightful…"

"Out!" The Potions Master snarls.

Malfoy splutters and tries to say something, but it is obvious from Snape's expression that it is not a good idea.

As Harry hears the door slam, his other hand joins the first one on the side of the crib in effort to stay standing. The boy is suddenly unsteady on his feet. He is hurting that much.

"Harry," Severus is standing very close now.

"Whatever he said has been designed to hurt you and is a lie,"

But Harry is too upset to listen. He is shaking his head. The boy knows he must stay calm; he shouldn't let people to hurt him so. Harry knows that he must keep himself in hand for Claudia. Claudia needs him. But it hurts too much. The rejection. The…

"Harry…."

The boy turns his head towards Snape, not caring that he is exposing his red, tear-stained cheeks. Snape's hand is lingering in the air right over Harry's shoulder. It appears as if he wants to touch the boy, to comfort him, but doesn't dare.

Suddenly Harry feels a surge of anger wash over him.

"How could you…! Why him? Why Malfoy? He's ugly, ugly and disgusting and vile," Harry thought better of Severus Snape. He would have thought that the man would see behind Malfoy's handsome, chiselled features and aristocratic bearing. Doesn't Severus see the ugliness in him? It is so unfair!

The hand finally descends onto the shoulder where it wants to be. The touch sends a jolt of something magic-like through Harry's body. The intensity of it gives him a start and the hand withdraws as if burned.

"Harry,"

The boy has a sudden urge to laugh. It seems ironical that Snape has never spoken his name as many times as in last five minutes.

"No, don't say anything; I know, I have no right to," Harry wants Snape to go away, to leave him alone, he is too vulnerable right now, it feels like all his wounds have reopened and salt has been rubbed into them.

"You don't have to be here," it hurts him to say those words, but Harry is tired from fighting. "You don't owe me anything. You have done so much for me already, you protected me and you gave me Claudia. I have no right to ask for more. I didn't mean to use her to tie you to me or something. It's not that I have some exclusive right to you."

Harry wants to say that he will be alright, but that would probably be a lie and unnecessary. What does Snape care if he is not well?

A deep intake of breath. Followed by a barely audible sigh.

"Harry…" there it is again. His name from those thin, stern lips, sounding as if it was a name of some fair, fragile flower. "You are mistaken."

Alright, that is more like it. Severus Snape telling Harry Potter that h is an idiot and he is wrong about something once again.

Then strong hands takes hold of Harry's shoulders and turn him around, so Harry faces the man. Not the man. He can't look Severus into eye. Harry's gaze stops somewhere on the Potions Master's solar plexus, counting the tiny buttons of his teacher's robe.

"You are mistaken, Harry. I am here, because I want to be."

"You don't have to…"

"Shh, be quiet," Severus commands and Harry obeys. The voice, the tone, all of it, still has a hold over him.

"I am sorry." The words are so quiet that for a moment Harry thinks that he is hearing things.

"I have to apologize, I should have known that Draco would try something like this," Harry feels jealous when he hears Snape call Malfoy by his given name. As ridiculous as it is.

And then he grasps the meaning of the words. Snape is apologizing. For the trouble, his lover has caused. How… How little that is! God, but Harry is a fool, isn't he? What did he expect?

More, much more, is the answer.

"Just, go," Harry demands. "Please, leave," he begs. For mercy.

The boy knows that he should tell Snape that he still can visit Claudia whenever he wants to, but, the words are not coming past his lips. She will have to forgive him this time.

.

**5.**

Severus shuts the door behind himself. He is about to walk away. Again. The unsaid words weighing heavily upon his heart. What is it that keeps him from expressing himself with his usual sophisticated eloquence?

His pride? That had never been a commodity he had been allowed to have. At least not, out of his Potions laboratory. And there is nothing noble about misplaced pride.

Oh, he could keep looking for excuses and maybe would succeed in finding a fitting one. But they would be nothing more than that, excuses.

The fact is that nothing keeps him from telling those words, except, maybe his own cowardice.

As banal as it sounds, he has nothing to loose and everything to gain.

Severus turns around, opens the door and returns to the hospital wing.

Harry is crying on his bed. He is crying for real, the small body trembling, shoulders shaking, half sitting, half lying on the bed, face buried in his folded arms.

Severus calls out Harry's name. The boy looks up; his face red and swollen. There is nothing pretty about crying when the tears are real.

"Didn't you hear me! Leave me alone!" Harry cries out and Severus imagines that drops of spittle would be hitting his face now, if he were standing closer. Strangely, he would not have minded. Just for an opportunity to be that close to the boy.

"There is something I need to tell you. In fact, I feel I need to apologize to you for much more than Draco's intrusion. You deserve to hear my explanations."

"Why do you think I care for your explanations!"

"Because I think you do. You have admitted as much, if not in your words, then in your actions. Do not interrupt me. We can't continue like this, assuming things about each other, hurting each other. It has to end."

Severus steps closer. He is not going to be a coward.

"I am sorry, Harry. For ever touching Draco Malfoy. For doubting your fidelity. I saw you with We… your friend. I misinterpreted the situation and… it led to that. I am ashamed for my actions," the boy lets out another sob and it hurts Severus to see Harry like this.

"Listen to me, please. I was very upset and I… I was afraid Harry. I couldn't believe that someone like you could want to be with me, that you might want to stay with me. I was jealous, I was.. I am jealous of every witch or wizard you smile at. I am jealous of the ground you walk on, I am jealous of the bed you sleep in!"

The boy was looking at him with wide eyes now.

"I took Draco Malfoy to my bed only because I wanted to get back at you for an offence you never made. That time I saw you with Weasley…"

"It was nothing!"

"I know now and I regret my hastily drawn conclusions."

"I would never…"

"I know you wouldn't. And I shouldn't have. I was not thinking very clearly and it was not even you, whom I doubted so much. It was I, myself. I didn't feel deserving of your affection."

"But…but that's nonsense!" Harry protested.

"I am much older than you, I have never treated you kindly, I have been forced on you, and I am not a man one would call handsome or amiable even…

Harry looks like he has no idea what Severus is talking about.

"You are not that old, not by the wizarding standards and there were reasons, why you treated me as you did, besides I was forced on you as well and you the most fascinating man…" the boy flushes as he realises what he has just said and even with tear stained, swollen face, Severus finds that endearing.

"Besides you should know that it doesn't work like that. Attraction. And everything," the boy stumbles over the words.

"I might suspect that, yes," Severus admits. He crosses what little distance there is between them and captures one of Harry's hands in his. The fingers are still short and nails clipped. Severus lifts them to his lips and places a kiss on the soft fingertips.

"All I can ask is for your forgiveness. I have made my mistakes because of foolishness, not malice. I would like to have one more chance. For you, me, Claudia. I think we could try being a family."

"Could we?" Impassiveness in Harry's voice scares Severus.

"You did not trust me. That only proves how little you know me. Now, I don't think I can trust you."

Well, yes, he deserves that and more. Then the boy looks up and meets his eyes. Severus feels almost irresistible urge to smile, because while Harry's words are harsh, his eyes speak volumes and the truth in them differs from the one coming out of his mouth. Harry wants it. He wants everything Severus has to offer. The boy has always wanted those things and Severus has really been blind, not to notice that.

"Then I want to get to know you," doesn't it sound good?

Harry sighs and tightens his lips in a thin line. Not so good, then.

"Harry, please. I regret deeply," he is still holding the boy's hand and Severus realises that he is on the brink of sounding desperate. He is pleading. But whatever. It doesn't matter. Bugger dignity and false pride.

"I regret not being there for you. Never touching Claudia, while she was still inside you. Not being there, not holding your arm during your birthing pains. I regret not being here to take her in my arms just after she was born. I realise that I have lost those opportunities forever and I am never going to have them again. Believe me, it's the worst punishment there could be, but of course, I will accept whatever sentence you will see fit to dole out,"

Severus pulls the small hand to his lips once again for a good measure and just because he wants it. God, but he has missed this.

The boy laughs out: "I thought that 'doling out' punishment was in your department."

Is he flirting? Probably doesn't even realize that.

Then Harry looks at Severus levelly. He does not say anything, but the message is very clear – Harry will be giving Severus his chance, but only one and he is not going to make it easy for the man.

Then Harry asks Severus would he like to hold Claudia. Severus would.

**6.**

Sometimes Harry hates Hogwarts. Like really, really hates the damned castle.

No one is supposed to know, that he will be leaving today. But somehow everyone does!

Harry sighs.

"Don't fret, mate, you can be glad that at least the press is not here, you know," Ron pats his back.

It is a bit of a cold comfort. The boy is too aware of several hundred eyes watching him from the castle windows. They make him nervous and as usually when he is nervous, Harry's eyes seek Claudia. It is silly. She is still, where she has been since they had left the Hospital Wing.

Peacefully asleep in her father's arms.

After getting over his initial wariness, Severus has gotten very proficient at holding the baby. Not a great surprise, if Harry thinks about it. The man is used to handling delicate potion ingredients with steady hand and there is not even once of clumsiness in him. Harry can trust the man with his precious bundle. Well, **their **precious bundle actually.

Severus' has insisted that he will carry Claudia, so Harry would be able to say his goodbyes properly.

It is not as if he is leaving as in moving to another country or something, but there are still many people who want to see him off. His friends from Gryffindor, Hagrid, Madam Pomfrey. Ron and Hermione, naturally.

Some of the professors are also there, including Albus Dumbledore, who doesn't quite approve. He has suggested that Harry stay in the Castle. The boy should not be left alone with only Dobby to help him. Well, Harry doesn't care. He still wonders, what it is, that the Headmaster wants from him.

Maybe Hogsmeade is still too close to Hogwarts after all.

But being close to Hogwarts means being close to Severus, so house at Hogsmeade it is.

Harry shoots his husband an amused glance. Severus is trying not to glare draggers at Neville. The man hasn't said a word, but for some reason he has decided that Neville Longbottom is his fiercest rival for Harry's affection.

Ridiculous, of course, but as long as the man is keeping his jealousy in check, Harry is not going to say anything. Severus is trying very hard after all and it is kind of amusing.

"Harry. It's time to go,"

By the tone of Severus' voice Harry can tell, that the man has about had enough of Gryffindor sappiness. He is probably right and they should leave before Hagrid starts crying.

"It's alright, mate," Ron pulls Harry in a one-armed hug one more time. "We'll come to visit the next weekend, right, guys?"

Harry watches Hogwarts getting smaller and smaller through the carriage window. Well, yes, he is not feeling as sad as he thought he would. He is beginning a new life and hopes that it will be happier than the one he is leaving behind.

He has a new house; he has Claudia… and Severus. Well, Harry thinks he can say that he has Severus. They are not completely together yet. But they are getting there. They are taking it slowly. With talking and having meals together, with Harry teaching Severus how to care for Claudia.

It turns out that the man can be almost pleasant if he wants to.

"Are you alright?" Severus inquires. Yes, he can be courteous as well.

"Yes, I am," Harry replies and throws a little half-smile on the top of that, when he realises that he is telling the truth.

.

**7.**

There is nothing Claudia loves more than watching her Daddy and Father when they are together. She pretends to be playing with her doll, because she doesn't want to bother them. Claudia knows that if her parents will notice her looking at them, they will want to include her. Most likely Father will come, pick her up and carry over to the sofa. He will sit her on his lap and Daddy will shift closer and start asking her about the playgroup or Wendelin, her doll or tell her stories.

Of course, Claudia likes sitting with her Daddy and Father, but she can't watch her Father looking at Daddy from his lap, can she? She likes watching father looking at Daddy, because he smiles a lot then.

Claudia's Father doesn't smile all the time the way Uncle Ron and Uncle Neville do. But it is alright with her. Daddy says that father is saving all the smiles for two of them. For some time that worries her, because Claudia is going to have a baby brother very soon and she is afraid that she will have to share Father's smiles with him too and there will be not much left for her.

Father often says that smart people keep their eyes and ears open and try to learn something from what they see, so that's exactly what she does; for some time Claudia watches her father closer than usually.

What she sees, makes Claudia believe that she has been completely wrong about everything. _Don't jump to conclusions._ Father often reminds her. And Father is very smart.

However, after observing for some time it becomes obvious that the new baby is not going to take any smiles away from her and Daddy, because lately Father smiles more often than before.

While she is not worrying about loosing his Father's smiles anymore, Claudia has discovered a new pastime. She is not sure why, but it makes her feel all warm inside when she sees her parents together. Daddy sits with his back against Father's chest, his head tucked under Father's chin.

Claudia really likes Father's hands, they are much bigger than hers and Daddy's too and his fingers are long and elegant. Not always clean though, but Daddy says that it is not because he doesn't wash his hands. Father works with Potions ingredients, which sometimes not come off easily. When Father comes home from work they often sit together and Claudia inspects one finger after another and asks Father to tell her, where each stain has come from.

Lately whenever Daddy and Father sit together on the sofa, Father's hands don't leave Daddy's tummy.

Sometimes they draw circles, sometimes they are stroking it gently or they just lay there. Well, there are times when they sneak under Daddy's shirt, but those times, Claudia stops watching and returns to playing with Wendelin for real. She knows that if Father will notice her watching, he will take his hands away, but Daddy always smiles even brighter and shifts even closer to Father on those times and Claudia likes to see her Daddy happy.

.

Fin

**Reminders****:**

Tabula rasa – (fr. Latin) something clean, untouched.

Wendelin – from Wendelin the Weird, the witch who liked to be burned. Well, kids like to be morbid sometimes, right?

**A/N:**

Well, I promised that this would be the last chapter. Nope. Changed my mind. While the official part of story is over, there will be a little after party, probably in a week or something. Call it a side story or a sequel, whatever, I'll just post it here as the fifth chapter.

But that will be it!

Oh, and don't forget to review!

I will try to respond to you, at least to those who have questions and a lot to say… but right now, I spend all my free time writing! You can't have objections to that!


	5. Chapter 5

bAuthor: /bTheSiner

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Post Scriptum

**Word Count:** 5,200

**Chapters**: 1/1

**Genre**: Drama, Gen, Romance, a side story.

**Pairing**: Harry/Snape (mentioned), Draco/Neville implied

**Summary**: Draco knows that Neville is visiting Harry Potter.

**Rating**: Talk about sex and not the nice kind of sex.

**Disclaimer**: These characters are not my own and belong to J.K. Rowling and affiliates. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Warnings**: slash (mentioned), not beta-edited, abusive relationship (mentioned), child abuse

* * *

…**Post Scriptum…**

**1.**

Draco doesn't let it show exactly how very surprised he is when Severus Snape doesn't turn him down as usually.

Draco has never really expected to be invited into the Potions Master's bed.

Oh, well, to be precise, he doesn't even get to see the bed, not to mention sleeping in it, since it is already occupied by Potter; something Draco sees only as a benefit.

But the point is that getting into Snape's pants has never been a goal he had really expected to achieve eventually, it has always been more of a game for him. Draco has always thought that the man would be too stuffy to accept his advances. With his professorship and his reformed Death Eater act, marriage, need to be able to take the moral high ground and all that.

Taking advantage of children in one's care is not what the most people consider ethical.

So, yes, Draco doesn't expect Severus to give in, however, the chase is fun and his flirtation annoys the man. The dark eyes glare fire at him and the Slytherin Prince is basking in his attention. Besides, Draco is persistent; maybe, he has inherited the obsessiveness of the House of Black.

Snape is the epitome of tall, dark and dangerous and something Draco wants for himself. A very fine notch on his belt (of course 'fine' not in the literal sense).

Imagine Draco's surprise, when Snape suddenly gives in. And he is not going to waste the opportunity to fuck the head of his house, even if getting his prize has nothing to do with Draco's efforts. He is perfectly aware that Snape has not realised that he has fallen in love with him all of a sudden or anything like that.

Draco understands that for some reason his dear professor has decided to use him in the worst way possible and his reasons have nothing to do with him personally. It's more like Draco happens to be conveniently there.

It does not bother Draco.

It is enough for him to imagine father's expression, if he only knew what his son was up to and with whom.

Father despises Snape. Hates his half-blood guts with passion. Draco thinks he can hear Lucius' teeth grind every time he seemingly innocently mentions the Potions Master. It is very amusing and even somewhat embarrassing, which means, only more amusing.

"Remember, Draco, you can never trust a half-blood, a half-blood is not one of us."

In father's eyes, Snape is a traitor. Lucius sees the treason of the Dark Lord as a personal offence. What he really can't stand is that Severus has turned out to be the smart one by siding with Dumbledore. Lucius hates losing and he always has to blame someone else for everything that doesn't go the way he wants it. It never has anything to do with his own decisions. Oh, no, Lucius sees everyone's flaws, except his own!

This time there is nothing he can do about it. As one of Dumbledore's men and husband to the Boy Who Lived Severus is untouchable. Moreover, when Lucius himself has barely gotten out of the whole mess with the War unscathed. He has to lie low for a while and put on the act of the model citizen. Revenge is out of question.

Meanwhile, Draco is having his.

Snape is the furthest from the nice pure-blooded witches Daddy wants Draco to consort with. Or a half-blood witch or a 'clean' boy from a family that wouldn't raise objections, preferably a poor one, – well, but only if Draco really can't help himself.

Fuck you, Father!

Yes, indeed. By fucking Severus, he is doing exactly that. He relishes the possibility that Lucius might find out one day.

And then there is Potter. The scrawny, miserable creature that is lately looking less miserable, which is a shame, because the look of the haunted martyr somewhat suits him.

Draco is not even sure what it is that annoys him about The Golden Boy so much. He could name many things, like turning down his hand, their Quidditch rivalry, everyone's adoration, which he commands without even making an effort.

"Look, look! It's Harry Potter…" Draco hears them whisper in wonder when Potter walks by, completely oblivious to the attention he is attracting.

Potter wraps himself in casual innocence and it is not an act, it comes easily, effortlessly to him and it rubs Draco the wrong way. The naiveté Potter still possesses despite everything he had seen and done - Draco envies the boy for that. Why is Potter allowed to remain innocent, when Draco has long lost and forgotten the child he once was? What right has Potter to remain so clean, so pure when Draco can't even remember how it feels?

Yes, Draco is envious, he is jealous like hell, even of Potter's dead parents who obviously loved their baby enough to die for him. No one would ever be able to take that away.

And, does it really matter, why he hates the Golden Boy? The point is that Draco finds Potter terribly irritating and doesn't mind fucking him over by fucking his husband.

Draco knows that Severus doesn't care for him much (that is to put it lightly). Severus doesn't even respect him. Quite the opposite. Like everyone else, he sees Draco only as a younger copy of Lucius. Like father, like son, apple from the apple tree and all that. A good enough reason to despise him, is it not?

Doesn't matter. Snape will pay for his oversight.

Draco is aware that the Potions Master still can't take his eyes off his slender, young body when he is lying stretched out and shamelessly naked on his bed. Cocky and wanton. Exactly what Severus expects of him. By the way, he gets to see the bed after all, when Potter runs off to Merlin knows where.

Severus weakness for Draco's flawlessly pale skin, his white blond hair and mercury eyes and angel's face is nothing one should hold against the man. It only proves that the Professor is human. Who would have thought?

He is not the only one. Draco has noticed the way people look at him. Men and women both. Even straight men. His schoolmates, father's friends, people who are simply passing by.

Some of them stare to the point of rudeness, but still can't take their eyes off him. Even if they despise everything Draco Malfoy stands for, his status, his father, his family, they still can't resist his devastatingly good looks.

Snape is no better. Of course, Severus would sooner break his wand that willingly admit to such shallowness. He is almost an unwilling participant in his own way. Snape isn't enjoying being attracted to someone like Draco. Flawlessly beautiful from outside with core as rotten as Draco's is.

Sadly, poor Severus can't help himself. He has gotten a taste and now he is hooked.

Therefore, Draco likes to rub it in. He has perfected the role of the young, spoiled, casually malicious aristocrat. The soulless, pretty doll.

Draco's entertainment costs him.

Snape punishes Draco for his own weakness and, for whatever else is wrong in his life, mercilessly. He is rough and callous. There are no kind words and gentle kisses. Snape humiliates Draco and Draco lets the man.

"Yes, please… yes! Yes! Yes…" he even begs for it.

Draco doesn't care, doesn't mind. Draco deserves to punishment anyway, doesn't he?

Besides, Severus will pay his own price; he will be punished for his weakness, he will pay for not being better than any of them, for being no better than his father's fucking friends, no better than Lucius, no better than everyone else. Everyone pays in the end.

Everything has a price.

Draco has received many offers from many people since he had turned twelve. However, he had never cared for money or jewels or rare magical artefacts, he has always been smart enough to learn any spell, without anyone's help. The bribes he has been offered for a chance to touch him, to kiss him, to have him, have never interested Draco, because he had always had plenty of all those things already.

While the idea of selling his body seems perversely enticing, Draco thinks that the reality of it would not be glamorous at all.

However to go to bed with someone because he find them attractive doesn't seem… how to put it? Well, Draco thinks it would be stupid, ridiculous truly. Somehow too simple and dull.

Draco ponders on the subject and realises that there are many different ways to charge. For example, in tears, blood and pounds of flesh.

That is what it is like between him and Severus as well and he does not really care if the man realises that or not. If one is not capable of keeping up with the rules of the game, one should not be playing.

To say, that Draco is disappointed when Potter vanishes soon after his affair with Severus starts, is to put it lightly. The deal with the Potions Master is not as fun without the opportunity to gloat and to bite the Golden Boy. It is a major disappointment, but Draco continues the liaison because he has nothing better to do and maybe to prove that his life doesn't revolve around The-Boy-Who-Lived.

He is almost relieved as Severus shows him the door, as it later turns out, a couple of weeks before Potter returns. Naturally, Draco makes a scene, acts out a part of jilted lover, even gets carried away and swears his undying love for the Professor and begs not to make him go away. Snape of course is disgusted by such behaviour, but can't help feeling guilty.

It makes him despise Draco even more and probably despise himself for touching the Slytherin Prince.

It's perfect.

Afterwards Draco ducks into the Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to have good laugh. He can't walk into slytherin common room giggling like an idiot. He visits the stupid ghost sometimes anyway.

After she is done with screeching, Myrtle is not that bad. The ugliest girl he has ever seen, of course. Certainly, no one has ever pretend to care for her because of her looks, but then, it doesn't seem that anyone has ever cared for Myrtle at all…

But the thing is that the prepubescent ghost is the greatest voyeur Hogwarts has ever known. Let's say, interesting things happened in Perfect bathrooms and broom closets. She also likes to share the stories and Draco likes to stay informed.

Nothing can spoil Draco's good mood for the next two weeks. At least until he has to return to the Manor for Christmas.

And then two days after the beginning of Christmas break the headlines are screaming at him from the first page of 'The Daily Prophet'. Potter has returned. The Wizarding Britain welcomes back its lost son with open arms. No one knows for sure where their favourite Hero has been wandering, but Skeeter and her colleagues are having the time of their otherwise dull lives guessing.

And, guess what! Potter's pregnant.

Pregnant!

Draco bursts out laughing when he reads about it in the paper during the breakfast. It earns him a reproachful raise of an eyebrow from Lucius. Draco has a pleasure to ignore it.

_Fuck you Father, - _his private little mantra.

You can't have a son, who is perfect in some ways and isn't in others.

Well, Potter takes extraordinary to an entirely new level. He is really very special and for once Draco doesn't envy the Golden Boy.

Lucius picks up his own paper and Draco watches his lips twitch and eyes narrow. He is angry, he wants to sneer or snarl or put the paper on fire. Father despises Potter and it is as personal as the hatred he feels for Severus. Draco wishes he knew, what father thinks Potter has done to offend him. It must be good.

Mother is sipping on her tea completely unaware. Whatever it is she's taking these days… Draco doesn't really care, he doesn't.

He is anxious to return to Hogwarts and pay Potter a visit. To twist the knife, in a manner of speaking.

Of course, nothing goes according to the plan.

**2. **

It is confusing and sort of silly and not meant to be. Neville is not naïve-- or at least not naïve to that extent (he certainly **is **somewhat naïve), but he just can't help it.

You don't switch off love with _Finite Incantatem._

It's that there is something about Harry… Neville can't exactly describe it. He knows that most of the codswallop about The-Boy-Who-Lived is just that. Codswallop. Not meaning that Harry isn't a Hero, oh, he certainly is, but meaning that it doesn't really make him more desirable or extraordinary.

To put it plainly, that 'something' is not his TheBoyWhoLived-hood.

Harry is not even very cool the way some of guys are, like Dean Thomas, who fits in very well, but in the same time seems to be a bit better than everyone else and it's like you could never imagine him tripping or saying something silly. Well, yes, Dean is certainly the coolest Gryffindor.

Harry doesn't fit in. He stands out. Harry is kind of weird actually. He is not… well, Neville actually thinks that Harry is very attractive in his own way. His eyes are gorgeous and not only those, but he is not beautiful the way others are, he is short and scrawny and often has awful, dark circles under his eyes.

Harry is a very strange boy.

After all, he is crazy in love with Snape of all the people, isn't he? If that's not strange, then what is.

That is not something to boast about, not really a good thing. Neville has accepted the fact, but it hasn't been easy and he doesn't fully understand.

He still doesn't see much to love about The Potions Master. Well, yeah, he has certain presence, but to call it charisma would be stretching it a bit far. Ok, there are things about him that someone might find attractive. Neville truly believes that everyone in the world deserves love and everyone has someone who loves them and Snape should too, but… but, not, Harry! He wants to shout.

Yes, in this one case Neville is being unfair.

Maybe because Snape has never been all that fair to him.

Anyway. What Harry wants to shout at his friend ever since Neville notices the way he is looking at his sham husband is – But it's Snape Harry! Snape!

And then Harry disappears and then he comes back and has a baby.

That does it. Neville loses any hope that Harry might see sense and show the Potions Master the door. If Harry could make a miracle to happen for that man…

Harry is a natural at being a parent.

Neville visits a lot. He walks down to Hogsmeade every weekend and sometimes when he manages to get away from the school. Seventh years have certain privileges and no one even bats an eyelid when they see Neville Longbottom leaving the school (he might be abusing said privileges a bit), because he of all people would not be up to no good, right? It's almost a bit sad, that it is right.

Harry is always glad to see him. He offers Neville tea and homemade cookies and to hold Claudia.

"I didn't really bake those myself," he blushes, when Neville praise the shortbread. "Dobby has, err, decided to 'get hired' by me," meaning the house elf simply turned up one day and refused to leave. "But, yeah, it was not me, who made the cookies, so they should be good."

Neville personally thinks that the cookies would be marvellous even if Harry had made them himself, but he doubts that he has time for anything else, but the little girl. It is good that Harry has Dobby here.

Not that he is alone.

Neville suspects that Snape is around as much as Harry allows him to be (he is determined to make the man work for it). He has also noticed that the Potions Master has a habit of showing up every time Neville visits Harry. The boy wonders if he has put up some ward warning Snape every time Neville comes by.

The third time 'the coincidence' happens, Harry and Neville look each other in the eye and realise that they both are thinking the same thing. Neville has to bite his lip to keep himself from bursting into inappropriate giggles and Harry hides his own laughter behind a pretend cough.

Snape's eyes narrow as far as it is possible without actually closing his eyes. He is not the kind of man who lets much slip past him. He doesn't say anything, but, man, he is so transparent in his jealousy.

Harry is benevolent. He is treating Snape's jealousy as a bad habit he is ready to ignore as long as his husband is making effort to keep it in check. Yes, from the twitching of Snape's fingers, Neville can tell, that the man is struggling very hard to curb the desire to hex him.

"I'm sorry Neville," Harry says later, the picture of embarrassment. "He's just… sometimes he can be… Merlin, can't you believe it? He thinks you are carrying a torch for me, or something. Please don't mind him."

Neville nods and smiles, afraid that Harry will notice how strained is his smile. But then Claudia makes a sound and Harry is on his feet hurrying to the crib, murmuring apologies to Neville.

The thing is that fatherhood makes Harry more attractive than ever. The thing is that Neville realises that he is nothing more than a guest in this house, no matter how well received. He swallows down the bitterness and relishes the sight of Harry cooing at the tiny baby in his arms. Beautiful.

He hopes Snape realises, what is that he has.

Neville promises himself to be around for the rest of his life to remind the man, to keep the bastard on his toes. Harry deserves all the happiness in the world. The same way everyone does. Neville truly believes that all people deserve to be happy.

**3.**

Draco Malfoy is as bored as the plaster on the wall of Binns' classroom, sitting in the Three Broomsticks and watching the schoolchildren slurp butterbear, when Neville Longbottom stumbles into the pub. Literally stumbles. Meaning that he trips over the threshold.

Draco rolls his eyes. Some things never change. But… this might be the entertainment he desperately needs right now.

Longbottom stops by the counter and buys a bottle of butterbear. How predictable, how very third-year. Longbottom thanks Rosmerta and starts making his way towards somewhere in the back of the room where Draco is occupying a table, alone.

Now he is looking under his feet, but overdoing it, risking bumping into the people he walks by. Longbottom looks almost dejected, staring at the floor like that.

Draco addresses the pitiful excuse of a wizard when he has almost walked past him.

"Could you be any more pathetic, Longbottom,"

Longbottom spins around as if I had not simply spoken to him, but hexed the idiot.

"Excuse me?"

"You are pathetic, Longbottom, and the way you are pining after Potter is even more so,"

Draco is mildly surprised when instead of turning all red and stutter-y Longbottom pulls back the chair and sits down on the opposite side of the table with a solemn expression on his round-ish face. Well, not so round anymore, Longbottom has lost some of his baby fat and somewhat matured.

He still can't be called handsome, not when he is sitting next to Draco Malfoy, but he is not the little, podgy kid anymore.

Not that Draco really cares for people who are incredibly good looking. No one would have believed, but he finds them boring. What Draco likes peculiarities and excesses – large noses, scars, too big mouths, too sharp features, crazy hair, scars, big feet, unusually coloured eyes… contrary to a popular belief, he is not interested in having it on with his mirror image.

But it irritates Draco. Longbottom's unexpected behaviour.

"You do realise that it is pointless. You will never have him,"

It has been so obvious. Longbotton has been looking at Potter like a vampire at a blood-flavoured lollypop since the beginning of their sixth year. The resident hero has never even noticed.

He takes a sip from his butterbeer as if Draco has not made a sound.

"Pathetic," Draco repeats, hoping to get some reaction, finally. This is just not fun. "You were at his house today, weren't you? Was Severus around as well?"

Longbottom looks Draco directly in the eye: "Harry and me, we are friends. I am alright with that."

"How noble of you, Longbottom," Draco makes a face to show exactly what he thinks about that.

Longbottom shrugs.

"And how is little Claudia doing? I almost feel sorry for her. Such parents, you know?"

"Harry is a very caring parent. I wouldn't feel sorry for Claudia. I would envy her,"

"You probably would,"

"Yes," he just nods ignoring the jibe, thrusts his hand into one of his robe's pockets, and rustles something. Longbottom removes the hand as if it was stung. Curious. But I doubt there is anything in his pockets I would be interested in.

"So, how is the royal couple of the wizarding world getting along?" I am speaking ironically, of course. Nevertheless, Potter could be a royalty judging by how much the Prophet has written about him, his brat, his new house and about Snape (reluctantly) by association.

"I don't think, Harry would like me telling you this about him," he sounds almost apologetic. Moron.

"Well, I think I can imagine very well by myself," Draco's tone is as implying as he can manage.

"They get along very well, Malfoy," Longbottom defends.

"You are comparing to whom?"

"They love each other,"

"Love? Are you kidding me? Snape in love? I don't doubt that Potter is fostering some kind of illusions of an astronomic proportion, but Snape in love… it is ridiculous," Draco is not sure whom he is trying to convince.

Or defend. Or whatever. Snape. Love. For some reason all of it is highly disconcerting. The conversation is becoming disconcerting. But Draco is nothing, but persistent. He can't give up, before he has gotten what he wants. The Black obsessiveness.

"I am wondering, how Severus likes being your rival, Longbottom. I think you are lucky that you don't qualify for NEWTs Potions," Draco pauses to watch his dark-haired companion. Neville is looking at his buttebear thoughtfully, but his expression is unreadable.

"I think that Severus is the sort to be jealous of air Potter breathes and of paint on his bedroom wall."

Longbottom looks up. He looks Draco in the eye. Longbottom's eyes are plain, grey, but he had incredibly long, thick lashes.

"He is very vulnerable," Longbottom finally says with a sigh.

Draco doesn't quite understand.

"Snape," Longbottom clarifies.

Draco raises an eyebrow at his companion.

"Longbottom, I am afraid you need to be looked at by a mind healer. Did you just call Snape vulnerable?"

"Yes, Draco, I did. And I meant it. He is very vulnerable. The same way you are," it is a statement, not a challenge.

"You are delirious," Draco wants to scrape his eyes out with my bare hands, to claw that pitying expression off his face! Longbottom dares to pity him! That's just laughable!

A sad smile pulls at Longbottom's lips.

"I know only few people who have not been damaged by anything or are simply very good at hiding it, or dealing with it," the hand disappears in the pocket again, followed by rustle. "We were born in a bad time. People like Snape and you, you think you are hiding it so well. But you are not, not really. I won't claim to understand Draco. I have no idea about what has happened to you, but,…" Longbottom looks like he has no idea, what to say. But… what? What is there to say? What great wisdom would mend all the hurts of the word? Heal all the wounds and erase all the scars?

Longbottom is too down-to-earth to come out with such knowledge. If Draco had ever been able to respect anyone at all, he would respect Longbottom for that.

However, right now Draco feels strange tightening in his chest. He desperately wants Longbottom to shut up and to do it right now. But Longbottom is a bloody Gryffindor and no one who has spent seven years in that House knows, when to shut up.

"People like you and Snape; you are so hard on yourselves. You make it look as if you think yourselves so much better than anyone else in this world is and so everyone deserves whatever abuse you can dish out. But it is just the façade.

Deep inside you don't believe it. It is yourself whom you despise the most."

"You lash out at everyone you meet, you try to make them hurt as much as you are hurting. You unleash the anger, which you feel for yourself upon them, but it doesn't make you feel better, because you know that they don't deserve it and you feel guilty and despise yourself for being unfair like this."

"It goes against everything you have been taught, it goes against everything you believe in, but you feel guilty. But you still keep doing those things, because you don't know other way and don't believe you could change anything."

Longbottom's eyes are piercing. Draco doesn't think that his thoughts are being read, because one can't read thoughts one has never had.

Longbottom hasn't finished.

"Why don't you try being the person you want to be, you could stop punishing yourself then."

"You are beautiful and very smart, Malfoy and rich and all that. But you are not happy. You know, why? Because... I know this is going to sound corny, but, you will never be happy if you won't accept yourself and won't start loving yourself."

Draco does the only thing he can think of.

"What would you know," he lashes out realising that it is a very weak comeback.

Fuck! But he is angry now. A nitwit like Longbottom has no right to psychoanalyse him! One thing the idiot is right about – Draco wants to hurt someone right now, preferably Longbottom.

"Merlin, Malfoy!" The boy exclaims, springs to his feel and the next moment he is leaning over Draco, picking the shards of glass from his bloody hand. Longbottom thrusts the hand that is not holding Draco's bloody one into the pocket and pulls out a large, checked, red and gold handkerchief, followed by a shower of Droobles bubble gum wrappers raining all over the floor.

"Don't worry. It's clean, just crumpled," he murmurs carefully wiping the blood of Draco's long, delicate fingers. "Not as bad as it looks. Erm… there is a spell…"

Draco nods and Longbottom fumbles through his robe for the wand. Cherry wood, Draco decides. He is good at telling apart different wandwoods. You can tell a lot about a wizard by his wand. Cherry. Red brown. Wood of medium hardness, firm, but not overly. Straight grain, easy to shape, carve and drill, without many knots. Has mild, aromatic scent.

"Episkey,"

The spell is warm and sweet like a very ripe cherry against Draco's skin.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry," Longbottom bursts out suddenly. "I had no right…"

And Draco is reminded that whatever has just come out of Longbottom's mouth has not been sad to injure him. there isn't a malicious bone in Neville's body. For some reason it makes it all even worse.

"Why…" Draco's throat is so tight that his voice comes out as a strangles whisper.

Longbottom lets go of Draco's hand and with a sigh flops back into his seat, graceful as a flobberworm. "I watch people, not a lot, just sometimes, I am not usually even very perceptive," he laughs out, but it is a derisive, mirthless, little laugh. "But sometimes I see… things about people… things that are wrong… oh, Hell, maybe I am wrong about everything, but it's like I sometimes feel where they are hurting."

Silence.

"God, Malfoy, I'm…"

"Shut up," Draco stops what would be another useless apology. "I…" he twists the garish, bloodstained handkerchief in his hand. The silence lies between them, taut, heavy, suffocating.

Then Draco stands up abruptly.

"I… have to go,"

While Draco doesn't doubt that someone like Longbottom can be incredibly naïve, he is sill shaken by the fact that the imbecile obviously doesn't hate him. No, Draco laughs out, strolling down the main street, it is even more then that, the plant-loving fool thinks that he is not such a bad person deep inside.

Idiot, idiot…

Draco is who he is… he's a Malfoy, he's…

He stumbles into a side street and throws up.

Afterwards he presses cheek against the cold raw-brick wall and lets the tears fall. Draco doesn't remember when he cried the last time. Well, no, he is trying to lie to himself right now, he does remember…

**4.**

_Large, grey and disbelieving eyes are staring at the man whose posture clearly spells out a simple and clear message – dismissed._

"_But, Father..." the boy pleads, forgetting that he has been berated for using that particular phrase, because it means whining and Malfoys do not whine. Draco is a very smart boy and usually quick on uptake, but at the moment he is too upset to remember all the lessons he has ever been taught._

"_But, nothing, Draco," the older man's voice is hard as steel. Unforgiving, unrelenting. His eyes didn't meet the pair of matching ones._

"_I… but Dad… but father, he… Mr. Honig, he… tried to…" the boy doesn't notice the uncertainty in the man's bearing, because tears blur his vision._

"_Mr. Honig is my business partner, Draco," then Lucius puts aside the pile of parchment he had been shuffling through. His back straightens, shoulders square out. The man schools expression back into the usual mask of aloof indifference._

"_From now you will know not to stay alone with Mr. Honig, won't you, son?"_

_Then the older man looks the boy in the eye… only Draco is looking down at the patterns in the Persian rug, the one of the kind, presented to Lucius' father by the wizard who was the Minister of Magic then._

_This will not do._

"_Draco?"_

_The boy straightens up and meets his father's gaze: "Yes, Father."_

_The tear tracks are still glistening and burning on his cheeks._

**5. **

Draco Malfoy runs into Neville Longbottom again and again, and again.

Who would have believed, but they become friends.

Draco tells Neville things he has never told anyone.

Neville often brings Draco flowers and never stays the night.

At least in the beginning.

Fin

**Reminders:**

Neville's mother Alice gives him a Droobles bubble gum wrapper during his visit at Christmas break, and Neville puts it in his pocket even though his grandmother tells him to throw it away, saying that he already has enough to "wallpaper his bedroom".

Neville's wand - cherry wood and unicorn hair.

I go with Neville's appearance from the movies, while in the books he is blond.

**A/N:**This is it! The last instalment, more like a bonus and I am not even sure if it fits with the story.

I have no idea what you will say about this, but, hey, I had to write it! Blame the muses.

Many authors write those terribly violent stories with multiple rapes and stuff, using them as plot devices and to make the characters more wangsty. I personally think that nothing as terrible and hurtful is necessary to mess someone up.

DanceswithHippogriffs: Thank you for review and sorry for not killing Draco, but he will die eventually. We all will. He, he! I guess I am too fond of the little bastard.

Wynja: Thanks for appreciating my hard work. You are the one of the best!

Crazy4Skittles: Would be funny if on your question I had answered 'I am American' (Grrr!) Oh, but, no, English is not my first language. That's, why I always put possible mistakes in the warnings. And commas? I don't like them even in my mother language. I try to use them, but, well… Just can't get them right!

Serafine: Ah, a cookie goes to you for guessing that the last chapter will be about Draco. Not exactly comeuppance. But that's the way I see the world sometimes, from different angles. Besides, I don't believe that in the real world the bad things one does always are punished.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Post Post Scriptum

**Chapters**: 1/2

**Genre**: Drama, Romance,

**Pairing**: Draco/Neville, Harry/Snape (mentioned),

**Summary**: Have you ever wondered, why is the totally nice guy together with that complete b***h? Draco and Neville's story. Continuing the series.

**Rating**: Teen

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended.

**Warnings**: slash, not beta-edited. About the same warning that in the first story. I will add that you won't see much of Harry and Draco in this one.

A/N: In this, I continue with Draco and Neville's story. So there is not much Severus/Harry. Not interested? Don't read then. But for those who are – enjoy.

**Post Post Scriptum**

**1.**

Draco is leaning against the wall, the coldness of Hogwarts' old stones is seeping into his right shoulder through the fine, midnight blue silk robe. No one is wearing the uniform tonight. None of the young witches and wizards look like a Hogwarts' students for that simple reason that they are not any more. They are all dressed up as the adults they are about to become. Or at least that is the idea. It would be naive to believe that a piece of parchment that says one has completed their magical education means that they are prepared for the so called _real_ life. _The real life _is a silly concept anyway; it implies that life until the point of graduation from Hogwarts has been a pink childhood fairy tale, which is very far from the truth in Draco's case.

But all his peers look so excited and full of hope, they look ready for whatever is to come and they staunchly believe that those are going to be only good things.

As usually, Draco finds his peers annoying and amusing at the same time, and not very smart.

"Should I be worried?"

Draco turns his head into the direction of the voice, somewhat startled and dismayed that he has allowed someone to sneak up on him like this. Especially this certain someone.

He thinks of turning around and walking away, but Draco is bored to tears and not only apprehensive, but slightly intrigued as well. Besides his ex schoolmate owes Draco more than just some embarrassment. It shouldn't be too hard to turn the tables this time, right?

So with a raised eyebrow and a superior smirk he asks: "Do you think you should be Longbottom?"

"I think I probably should. You were smirking in a kind of scary way. As if you were planning something. "

"Ah, very perceptive and most likely wise. You should always be a little worried…" i_around me/i_, is implied.

"But no, this time I don't have a nefarious plan, no. if something happens, it will not be my doing – I am merely a spectator tonight. "

"You have been seeing those people daily for seven years. Hasn't it been enough?"

"More than enough, but sometimes people make you see them in a very different light. They can change your perception of them in a blink…" Then, suddenly aware of what he has said, Draco adds: "Look at your good friend Granger over there. I see she is a woman after all, not a worm," Draco pauses. "I mean, book-worm, of corse."

"Of course," a hint of disapproval crosses Longbottom's face. But he glances at Granger. "Hermione looks very nice tonight. "

Draco rolls his eyes: "Not that. See the way she is pushing her breasts into Weasley's face? Never suspected she had it in her. And I never thought that Weasley was the one who broke up their Gryffindor Golden couple. I thought it was the other way around and I was wrong. Obviously. She has it bad, but while he is vaguely interested in her breasts Weasley does not care for her as much as she cares for him."

"You are very perceptive," Longbottom notes, uncomfortably confirming Draco's words.

Draco grimaces; it's more like he is good at detecting other's weaknesses to explore them later… but a compliment has to be taken with grace.

"Of course I am. Granger is all over Weasley. I guess those overly huge feet are not false advertising after all. I mean, there must be something she's after and I doubt it's his intellect. "

"Malfoy!" Longbottom exclaims obviously scandalized.

He is making it too easy. Draco turns his head and lets his gaze slide down Longbottom's body: "And your feet… oh my, is there something you would like to brag about? I can be a good listener."

"Merlin, Malfoy…" Longbottom has turned Gryffindor red.

"What? Did I offend your Gryffindor sensibilities?"

Now it's Longbottom's turn to do the eye rolling. But to Draco's satisfaction, the blush is still there.

But still, this doesn't feel right. Draco hasn't managed to really insult Longbottom yet and the boy hasn't stormed off in anger. It's making Draco uncomfortable; he doesn't want a repetition of their previous conversation, even if he would never admit it loud or even think about it, really. The false amicability suddenly disturbs him.

It is tie for the change of tactics.

"Longbottom."

"Huh…"

"Why are you here?"

"Why? Why wouldn't I be here, it's our graduation party. "

Draco wonders if Longbottom is for real: "Why are you here, talking to me."

"Ah… I just thought… I…"

"Did it hurt?"

"What?"

"Thinking."

Longbottom blinks and then smiles: "No. No, it didn't. At least not too much. " He is trying to make a joke, but obviously realizes that it's not a very funny one.

Draco doesn't have a decency to laugh about bad jokes. Most of Neville's little friends would most likely l chuckle, because it's polite, but Draco is not one of them, is he? He just raises a slim eyebrow as if saying 'and so?'.

"I just wanted to say that I was sorry for what I said that day. It was not my place."

Draco feels the self-assured smirk slipping off his lips. Naturally, Longbottom wouldn't be sensible enough to not bring it up. He sighs feeling tired and vulnerable for a moment ad then tries to burrow that feeling deep inside himself.

"And I have always been so kind to you, that you would feel awful because of every uttered word that could hurt my tender soul?" Draco snorts. "Get a backbone Longbottom," he says flippantly.

Longbottom sighs and gives Draco a sad smile.

"This has less to do with you than you think, Malfoy. I am apologizing because of me. I had no right to teach you how to live your life."

Draco gives the other wizard a long, disbelieving look: "Longbottom. If I remember correctly, it was I, who spoke to you first and those were no endearments. To make it more clear, since it might be necessary - I was goading you mercilessly Longbottom."

Is he sick or stupid?

The dark-hired man gives a wave of indifference with his hand: "I am not stupid, I noticed. But you still don't understand. It doesn't matter to me, what you said or did to me, Draco. What matters to me is what I did or said to you. I guess I am being selfish right now. I am trying to make myself feel better by offering apologies. "

Then Longbottoms lifts his eyes from the floor and looks the ex-Slytherin in the eye and a little chuckle escapes past his lips. Draco narrows his eyes, somewhat affronted, because he realizes that the reaction is caused by the stunned expression, which Draco doesn't manage to hide fast enough.

"So, this is how you goody-goody types function, isn't it? You don't care as much for other's feelings, as for opportunity to think of yourself as of such a wonderful person," Draco sneers.

"Not exactly, but I suspected that you would easily believe that," Longbottom replies playfully.

Draco stares at the other man intently, his lips knitted together into a line as thin as one with such a generous, sensual mouth can manage. It is obvious that the cogs are working intently as he is processing the Gryffindor's words.

Why does he feel like he has been had?

The mercury eyes blazes with scorching anger: "Don't toy with me!" He snarls and stalks away.

"Draco!" Longbottom calls after him.

The idiot's impudence astonishes Draco. When did he allow Longbottom to use his first name? Or to talk to him. It was mistake to stand there and listen to the most ridiculous of his year mates!

Only the Longbottom the Half of Hogwarts used to laugh about doesn't exist anymore…

Blaise catches his eyes and raises eyebrows at him in a manner that makes Draco wonder if he has noticed the interaction with Longbottom. But, what does it matter? Why would he try to hide it? Why would he be worried because of a chance that someone might have witnessed the scene?

It doesn't matter.

Only that Longbottom has managed to make him feel somehow more vulnerable than he has felt since… since he let father fail him for the last time. And instantly his mind protests. This is different kind of vulnerability.

His father's blindness, Lucius incapability to see Draco and understand his needs made Draco feel so lost and alone when he was a child.

Under the scrutiny of Longbottom's plain grey eyes he is feeling vulnerable because the damned Gryffindor sees too much.

**2.**

Draco rakes fingers through his hair, but the silky strands instantly fall back to where they were returning to previous perfection. There is some irony in the fact that apparently it is impossible for the image in the mirror to be anything, but flawlessly handsome.

Draco turns his back on the mirror, deciding, that he has no excuse to linger any longer, and it's time to join his parents as they have requested. His reluctance has everything to do with the fact that Lucius has insisted (meaning demanded) that Draco be present at their little dinner party. Nonetheless, he can't refuse, since he has not been very obliging lately and the request to join them for an evening doesn't seem much to ask.

Still, Draco cannot help, but wonder, what it is really about, as he strolls through the house towards the drawing room, ignoring the grey eyes of his ancestors that are following his every step.

"Draco," Lucius greets him in a manner, which makes it obvious that he is displeased for those who know him well. "I see you finally decided to join us."

"Father. Mother," he greets them with a formal bow, the way every properly bred pure blood son should. Yes, he is about five or maximum eight, minutes late and almost on purpose. Draco is not going to argue that. Instead he turns towards their guests. They have met before, but not officially introduced.

"May I present to you my son, Draco," Lucius says. "Draco, you might have heard of mister Fallstone."

He has heard of Mr. Fallstone. Draco vaguely recalls having heard Fallstone's name in connection with the Wimbourne Wasps and the Ministry. Everyone's name can be heard in connection with the Ministry, if they have any influence at all. Lucius would never consort with someone, who has no power, that's a given.

Draco greets the man formally and then he is introduced to Fallstone's wife and his beautiful, educated (but not overly emancipated) daughter.

He has to bite down on his cheek to keep his aloofly polite expression break into an angry snarl.

**3.**

"Sorry, mate!" Neville calls out to a wizard whom he bumps into entering 'The Leaky Cauldron'. His clumsy moments still keep embarrassing the young man. It's not as bad as it was when he was a child, but when he is tired, he gets distracted and silly accidents happen.

Neville is a master at laughing them off.

He has had a very long day and is desperate for a pint, and to be honest Neville would like not to make it home before his Gran's bed time. He has a feeling that he's not up to her tonight and sometimes it's wiser to avoid her. Or less complicated.

He looks around the room not actually expecting to see anyone familiar—

Malfoy!

Malfoy. He means, Malfoy, without the exclamation mark, because it's not such a big deal that Malfoy is here, right? 'The Leaky Cauldron' is just the most popular place in the Wizarding world, since everyone has to walk through the pub to access Diagon Alley. It's perfectly possible that Draco Malfoy would be there. He probably should just...

Yeah, he should...

Neville shoves hands into his pockets and wonders if he should go and say 'hello'. Or shouldn't. It's not like they are friends or something and someone like Draco Malfoy probably doesn't want anything to do with him anyway.

The blond doesn't look as if he is waiting for someone though. There's a half-empty bottle of wine in front of him and the top three buttons of his shirt are undone. Malfoy rather looks like someone who is determined to get drunk alone.

Then Draco looks up and Neville is caught staring by the cold and captivating grey.

Malfoy arches an eyebrow, smirks mirthlessly and sinks back into his chair striking such a decadent pose as if he was reclining on a throne instead of a tatty wooden chair. He lifts the half-empty glass in a mocking toast and then drains it.

Is it a challenge? An invitation?

Does it matter, no, it obviously doesn't, since Neville's feet are already carrying him over to Draco's table.

"Longbottom! So we meet again!" Malfoy greets Neville and instantly it becomes obvious that he is much drunker than Neville thought at first.

Draco is not trying to get drunk, he is drunk already.

"Malfoy. I would have asked what you were celebrating, but, well… you are not celebrating, are you?" Neville asks, before it crosses is mind that maybe he shouldn't open another can of worms.

"Astute, Longbottom! Very astute. You're absolutely right. I am not-celebrating. Not-celebrating my engagement if you care to know. Do you? Are you curious Longbottom? Do my private life interests ypu? Are you going to run to the Daily Prophet with the story?"

Neville's eyes must have bulged.

"Engagement?" His voice is squeaky.

"Depends on how you look at it, really. Oh, sit down Longbottom, stop looming above me like, like Snape or a Dementor or something," he snickers at the comparison, because even a fool would find it ridiculous. To compare Longbottom to Snape. "No, it's not that it's official or something, believe me, if I had gotten engaged, there would have been a grand party and an announcement in the center spread of the Prophet. So, noo, I am not, not yet. Yet. However, I got introduced to my future wife tonight."

"What?" Neville is not sure, why he is finding it so shocking. There is nothing wrong with being sort of engaged, is there?

"Oh, yes, isn't that rich? Daddy has picked me a wife! He would have liked us to tie the knot as soon as possible. Preferably, yesterday. Unfortunately, she's still in school. Beauxbatons, of course. Her mother thinks that a bit of French is what makes her daughter a refined lady, can you believe it? As if, French are better than we by default just because their language sounds sort of fancy. Of course Malfoys originally comes from France, but that's beyond the point, you know?"

Neville shrugs; he isn't sure of what makes a lady one and what doesn't. It doesn't matter much to him, if the girl is nice.

"My Gran wants for me to marry too," Neville offers.

Draco raises his eyebrows. "Oh, really? And whom?"

"No one particularly. Just someone. A witch, I guess. My Dad married Mum as soon as they left Hogwarts, so I am supposed to do the same. She's already disappointed that I didn't become an Auror like Dad was."

"And, what have you been up to Longbottom?"

"Huh?"

"Instead of becoming an Auror."

"Oh!" It is stupid of Neville to imagine that Draco might know what he is doing. "I am doing herbology apprenticeship with professor Burdock. Pom- Professor Sprout recommended me."

"Good for you, Longbottom," Malfoy drawls and Neville doesn't think that he is being mocked. For once the blond sounds like he truly means it.

Neville is glad that his companion has opened the topic and he can ask the question without appearing to be nosy. "And you, Malfoy? What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What have you been doing? Like a career or apprenticeship. "

"I? Funny Longbottom, really funny," Draco throws his head back in scornful laughter, but Neville has a feeling that he is mocking himself more than him. "I am doing nothing Longbottom. I am resisting my father's attempts to make me take up some boring Ministry position and waiting for my fiancée to mature so I can marry, beget an heir and then keep doing nothing."

Malfoy does not sound as if he would be enjoying that.

"Maybe you should find a job. One you really like. Or a hobby. Something you are good at," Neville suggests, because even if Malfoy is not easy to get along with, he is smart and good at many things. Like potions, flying, and charming people and putting them into their places. His talents are exactly the things that Neville sucks at.

"Something I am good at? Oh, Longbottom, what a marvelous idea! I can imagine my father's reaction if I started taking money for what I am good at!" Malfoy licks his lips lasciviously and smirks at Neville, which makes him think that the blond is not talking about Quidditch.

"Malfoy," Neville says, not sure how to react. "You are drunk. " Obviously, Malfoy's eloquence is deceptive. He has had way too much wine.

Draco stares at him intently for a long moment and then he laughs out flashing Neville pearl white teeth. "Yes, indeed, I am!"

"Should I take you home?" Neville offers.

Draco takes another sip from his goblet and Neville can see that he lacks the usually elegance, his hand is a bit sluggish as it is lifting the goblet to his lips.

Then he leers at Longbottom: "Are you propositioning me Longbottom? Going to support my new career? Would like to be my first client? What is your pleasure sir?"

Neville blanches: "No… no, Malfoy. Listen, you are pissed. You should go home, get some sleep. I'll apparate you, alright?"

"To your bed, Longbottom?" Draco asks giving the other man a once over.

"No, Malfoy…" despite himself, Neville feels his cheeks heating under the intense gaze.

"Then, thank you very much, but I will pass. I want to fuck someone. Or rather, I want to be fucked. For money or for free, I don't care which, by you or by someone else, it doesn't matter either," with that he tries to stand up, but then sways and falls back down. "Maybe, I should have another drink," Malfoy gives a laugh. The sound is so light and careless...

Neville sighs. It looks like he is not going to get his beer. But on the other hand, he feels drunk by just looking at Malfoy. He stands up and takes the glass out of Malfoy's hand.

"Hey…"

"Come, Malfoy, let's get you home. To your own bed."

"Going to be my hero, Longbottom? Everybody needs a hero these days, don't they?"

Neville just smiles and hoists the other wizard to his feet.

Draco falls against Neville's broad chest: "You know Longbottom; I would rather spread my legs for muggle men to earn living, than fuck some little inbred witch on my father's command. Even if she speaks French. After all, it's what I am exceptionally good at. Goes with being pretty, you know?"

"You are selling yourself short," Neville objects and pulls the blond to his feet, wrapping Draco's arm around his shoulder; I hope that he will be able to hold on. "You shouldn't talk about yourself that way."

"But that's the truth Longbottom. Why do you keep refusing to see that?" Instead of answering that, Neville starts dragging Draco towards the door.

He catches the barman's eyes and asks Tom to put Malfoy's bill on his tab.

"I am a slut, Longbottom," Malfoy's lips whisper very close to his ear. "You don't believe me? Ask Potter or better. Or his husband, yes, ask Severus."

Neville's step falters. The soft puff of breath against his ear is quite distracting. Not to mention Malfoy's words.

"Oh, yes, Longbottom, I fucked Snape. It's true. Still want to save me, want to be my hero? Or maybe my pimp? I don't care whose whore I become as long as I'm not my father's. Damn bastard..."

Neville tightens his grip around Malfoy's waist pulling him closer. He wonders at the fact that being pissed out of his mind, Draco still smells incredibly good. Fresh. Like some kind of citrusy flower...

"Still feeling sorry for me, Longbottom?"

He **is** feeling sorry for Draco. More sorry than ever in fact.

"You know, you should be worried for your dear, little Potter. Snape likes it rough. But on the other hand – I have no idea, where Potter's tastes lie. But, no, I don't think so. And that's not the point, is it? The point is that I let him to use me, didn't I?" He pauses to yawn and Neville realizes that he has never seen Draco doing something as human and uncontrollable as yawning and it makes him want to take the slender, young man in his arms and hold him… and he hates that it's not something he can't do. He keeps leading Draco in the direction of a small by-street next to the Leaky, away from muggle eyes, which he often uses for apparating.

Neville is very, very angry.

**4.**

"Alright, Neville," Harry says when he has pulled his ex-housemate to the side. "What's the matter?"

Neville shrugs, pretending not to understands, what Harry means. Harry however is not going to stand for it.

"Don't give me that. I have noticed. You haven't stopped glaring at Severus tonight. It's usually the other way around. What is going on?"

Neville sighs, raking fingers through his hair. "I am not sure if… I don't think you want to hear this, Harry," he says frankly.

The shorter boy huffs indignantly: "Don't patronize me Neville. I am not fragile."

"But you are a bit," Neville makes sure that his friend sees his smile and knows that he's mostly teasing. _And very dear to many people. _He adds in his thoughts.

Harry rolls his eyes and demands that Neville doesn't change the subject.

Neville lets out another loud breath. He is feeling cornered. Maybe he is cornered by his consciousness, which agrees that Neville shouldn't patronise Harry.

"Alright. I know about him and Draco Malfoy."

He sees Harry's eyes widen. His eyes are still the most beautiful ones Neville has ever seen. And the saddest at times.

"How?"

"From Malfoy."

"What! Does go around telling it to all and sundry now? Was he boasting or something? I can't believe that git-"

"No, Harry, no! He is not boasting, he told only me."

"Only you? If he has told you, he could have told everyone else. You are all and sundry, Neville."

"No, Harry, I don't think so. He was very drunk and… trust me on this, Harry, he is not telling everyone," Neville doesn't like seeing Harry this upset, because he is the one who doesn't deserve to be hurt by this.

"Alright, Neville, alright… I just don't want people to know, it's just…"

The dark-haired boy looks so young and miserable and Neville can't stand it, he puts his hand on Harry's shoulder: "I understand. They won't, not from me."

Harry nods.

"I didn't want to upset you," Neville sighs. "I'm sorry, but it's just that I… I'm so damn angry with your husband right now! I want to smash his face in really bad, Harry," Neville admits and chuckles, because the situation is a bit absurd. He's just the clumsy Longbottom kid and Sanpe is Snape, but he has grown so much that at the moment if it came to blows with the Potions Master, Neville would have a good chance at winning.

And it would be over Draco Malfoy's honour.

There is something tragicomic in that.

"It wasn't only Severus fault! Malfoy is hardly an innocent!" Harry's tone is defensive and Neville understands, but he still cannot agree.

"He is your husband, Harry, I know, but what he did was so wrong that I don't have words for it! He was the one who should have known better! He should have refused Draco."

Harry's lips are knit together tightly. It is clear that he has mixed feelings about the situation, and understandable, but…

"Malfoy probably did it to hurt me, do you realize that Neville?" He finally says.

Yes, Neville does.

"But it doesn't mean- you don't really know Malfoy, Harry. He has quite a mean streak, I can't deny that," Neville wonders since when he thinks of that particular trait as cute. "He hurts people, but-" Neville wants to explain that Draco is not all right and no one has noticed, because he is Draco Malfoy and supposedly born that way. He wants to tell Harry that Draco hurts himself much more than others, but no matter, how desperate Neville is to talk about this with someone, he can't say the words, because he realises that Draco wouldn't want him to talk about him with Harry, he would be more upset, uf he knew, that Neville tried to defend him.

"I'm sorry, Neville," Harry finally says. "I can't really bring myself to care for Malfoy's issues after everything. When you talk about it, I realise that he must have a lot of them, but…"

"I don't expect you to," and Neville means it. It is not Harry's place. The problem is that no one else obviously cares: nor his parents, nor his friends or teachers.

Snape certainly didn't when he was using Draco. The fact that Draco obviously allowed him to, doesn't excuse it. Snape should have noticed that Draco was not exactly rational and tried to help him, instead of taking advantage of him.

"If you want to hex Severus, I might turn a blind eye, because he certainly deserves it," Harry speaks up and then looks closely into Neville's grey eyes. "But, Nev, what are you doing with Draco Malfoy?"

Neville is a bit taken aback.

Actually, it is a very good question. What is he doing with Draco Malfoy?

Harry shakes his head: "Be very careful Neville. Please. I know you have a big heart. But you are my friend and I don't want to see you hurt."

Neville hasn't thought it was possible to respect Harry any more than he already does. However, when Harry doesn't judge when he obviously disapproves, Neville finds that his admiration for his ex-housemate can still grow.

5.

It seems, that others have also become aware that Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom have been seen together, but they are not as non-judgemental as Harry.

"Hey, Neville," Seamus is never one to hold back. "Talk has that you've been hanging out with Malfoy."

Not exactly hanging out, Neville thinks.

"Is he coming on to you? You're not sleeping with him, man, are you?"

Neville's eyes widen. "N-no! Of course, not."

"Good to hear that," Dean grumbles. "But what were you doing with him then?"

Neville doesn't like the way they are talking about Draco, but doesn't want to argue.

"He was at the _Leaky, _drunk and I apparated him home," Neville explains, thinking that he has never been as annoyed with the small pond that is the wizarding world. Why is he even making excuses? Alright, maybe because they are his friends and they care for him, but he is annoyed for some reason and feels like they are intruding, but why would he feel like that?

"You sure, he wasn't trying to get into your pants? Maybe you just didn't notice. Malfoy has a bit of a reputation, if you know what I mean," Seamus wriggles his eyebrows suggestively and Neville wants to punch him so bad that he has to make excuse and go to the bathroom before he does something stupid.

But it can get worse.

"Neville Frank Longbottom!" He can tell by the tone of Gran's voice that he's in trouble. "What business do you have with the Malfoy boy?" As usually, she doesn't even wait for his response. She always has her mind made up already about everything. That's just the way she is. "That boy is bad news Neville. You should be looking for a good witch to marry instead of associating with his kind. I ran into Amelia, she says her niece Susan is still single. Says, she's a nice girl. You should ask her out-"

Neville doesn't have to listen further. He already knows what she is going to say next too well.

"—your father had already proposed to Alice by the time he were out of Hogwarts and married her two months later, Neville."

"Yes, Gran," he gives the standard reply, because to argue with her is a waste of time.

**6.**

"Draco," his name drips like some honey-tar mixture from Blaise's tongue.

Draco has never quite managed to make up his mind about Zabini. After knowing the man for seven years, he's still unsure of where his loyalties lie or what he wants. There is an impenetrable cloud of mystery surrounding the dark skinned half-Italian wizard. Draco is not sure though, if there is really a secret behind those eyes, which are as blue as Mediterranean Sea, or it's just an illusion and Blaise Zabini is as plane as Millicent Bulstrode, just better looking.

Then there is all that rumor about Mrs. Zabini and her numerous husbands. Never exactly believed and confirmed, but still there. That alone feeds the thick halo of mystery around the man.

However, Blaise has never done anything to Draco (or anyone else). He has managed to stay in everyone's good books, or rather, he has stayed overlooked. That is an achievement, since people as good looking don't usually go unnoticed.

"People are talking Draco," Blaise's voice is a caress on one's cheek.

Draco's smirk is cold, challenging, and cynical but he will never admit that it's defensive: "You mean they have been talking about me? Or you hadn't mentioned it. They always talk, Zabini. Let them."

"Are you sure? After all, they talk of you and Longbottom."

That's just ridiculous. Draco rolls his eyes: "I got drunk at Leaky and Longbottom, the noble Gryffindor, took it upon himself to make sure I got home safe. Which by the way I did mind, since I had rather gotten into some trouble. I might have even dropped by, if you know what I mean."

Blaise smirks indicating that he knows very well.

"If you say so, Draco. It is just that Longbottom is not really from our circles, it would not be beneficial to your reputation to be associated with him. I think of you as of a friend, so I am warning you, Draco. What you do with yourself in privacy is one thing, but people like Longbottom has no discretion. "

Draco makes a face: "Shut up Zabini. Just because someone has nothing better to do with their time than making up stores about Longbottom and me- no, I do not want to talk about this. Don't we have something better to discuss?"

Zabini nods elegantly tilting head to his left side the same way he always does: "I personally have nothing against Longbottom, but he is not one of us and he will never be. He might be a pure-blood, but…"

Draco waves at him a little absent-mindedly, he has grown weary of the conversation. He is itching to ask Zabini, what makes him think that Neville Longbottom would want to be a part of their crowd, and if Blaise really believes that, what he calls 'our circles' are that wonderful. Draco personally often feels as if he was trapped in those circles of hell.

Merlin, Draco shakes his head, he's getting melodramatic like a bloody Hufflepuff.

"I think, your prattle has made me thirsty," he says and saunters towards the bar-counter where a waiter is mixing drinks. Draco personally thinks that a wizard is not a quarter as good as a house elf. However, one can't dress house elves into tight fitting robes or stop them from banging their foreheads against the floor in the middle of the party when they suddenly get into their heads that they have done something wrong.

Thus the new trend – to hire human help. Draco personally wouldn't have minded a house elf with the whole head-banging, maybe he would even look forward to the head-banging. A good scene would certainly be more entertaining than Pansy's Beubaxton friends' inane chatter about the robe trends and the new Weird Sisters single.

It seems she has invited all of them tonight. None of them would have minded terribly to become Mrs. Malfoy, quite the opposite. Draco would have revealed that Father has already found him a wife, if that would deter them. Draco doesn't believe that it will, his fortune and name are too tempting and his looks – cherry on the top. Even his sexual orientation (known well enough) doesn't put them off

Draco wonders which is worse – when people want him for his blond hair, chiseled features and flawless complexion or when they want him for his money and his family's influence.

He takes a sip from his glass and looks around the room. Parkinson is all over some Durmstang graduate whose father has the largest fur business in the Wizarding world. Blaise is engaged in a conversation with Jenny Weis – a singer from Germany, who is the new 'it' girl all over the wizarding Britain. Crabbe and Goyle are not invited – there are places for dumb brutes and they don't belong in trendy parties.

He realizes that there is no one whom he would like to talk to.

**7.**

Neville tugs on his tie, which feels like a rope tied to tightly around his neck. That tie doesn't fit around his neck the same way as Neville doesn't fit with the crowd at the party. He is only doing this for Gran, who hopes that Neville would meet a witch here. It seems like a small thing to appease her.

Neville is surprised that he is invited at all, because he has always been the one who is let out. There was always Hermione, Harry and Ron and Dean and Seamus and even if a lot has changed since then, he sometimes still has this feeling that he's the odd one.

He does understand why they have invited him. The Longbottoms are not exactly poor, the Longbottom Hall is no hovel, and the Ministry can smell money from mile away, even if they don't flaunt it. Like, for example ,Malfoys.

Who are here tonight. As expected.

And they fit in perfectly. Neville saw them earlier. He can see, where Draco is coming from; both his parents are stunning and it is as if he has received the best from both. He obviously takes after his mother a lot, only Narcissa's beauty is too distant, she appears to be cold like an icicle. But there is nothing cold about Draco. He is vicious and angry, but Neville would never characterise Draco as cold. Quite the opposite.

And here he is, standing in the corner with a glass of champagne, which he has barely touched and he is once again thinking about Draco Malfoy. He doesn't really like champagne. There is nothing wrong with the drink, but it makes Neville feel funny, different from any other alcohol. Neville just doesn't like it. The drink doesn't fit him any better than the tie, the party, Draco… he realizes that he should just go home and do something useful. A new hybrid of belladonna is waiting him at home...

Neville hides behind a column and lets out a sigh.

Then he hears voices. Someone is arguing. Neville has never liked loud voices, maybe, because curses are more often shouted on the top of one's lungs… for some reason, he instantly feels the urge to check if everything is alright.

He looses the glass and quietly walks out in the corridor in the direction of the voices. He looks around the corner, where he sees two men.

"What did you tell her?" Lucius Malfoy demands.

Draco smirks at him: "Why don't you ask her yourself? She was more your fiancée than mine, wasn't she? After all you chose her."

"I am asking you."

"It doesn't matter, what exactly I told her, what matters is that after it, she would never want to see my face again. Daddy."

Draco is so obviously enjoying himself that it almost makes Neville wince. Lucius Malfoy looks like he is about to burst.

"How dare you-"

"What? To ruin your perfect plan?" For the first time Draco shows his anger. "To defy you? I dare, father!"

"I'm warning you Draco…" Lucius growled.

"Guess what father? I am not afraid of your warnings!" Draco looked like embodiment of defiance, his mercury eyes shining with it brightly. "I wonder, what made you think I was such an obedient son? Hm? Did I really fool you so well?"

"You ungrateful, little- after everything I have done for you-"

Draco's flippancy vanished, his face distorted with anger: "What have you done for me? what? You kept telling me that boys didn't cry, you kept telling me what a disappointment I were, you almost sold me to that insane maniac, you called your Lord,-"

SLAP! "Shut up!"

Malfoy presses his own palm against his smarting cheek and his lips pulled back into a smile that is not a smile at all, but a soundless snarl: "You told me to shut up when your 'friends' kept pawing me too. Oh, I am so eternally grateful!"

Neville suddenly feels chilled to bone with mortification.

CLANG!

The wand falls out of his grip and rolls into the direction of both Malfoys. Just now Neville realizes that he has drawn it.

He leans down to pick it up, looking at the both wizards: "Sorry, I hope I didn't interrupt anything…" he doesn't sound as smooth as he would have liked.

Lucius Malfoy glares at him and Neville sees him sheath his wand: "You are not welcome at the Manor until you reconsider your behaviour. " With that he turns his back and stalks away, leaving Draco and Neville standing awkwardly in the corridor.

A hysterical laugh breaks the silence.

"Did you hear him? I am not welcome. Can you imagine it, Longbottom, Draco Malfoy – homeless?" He tries to laugh out again, but doesn't quite manage. He lifts his hand to brush hair back off his face and it's shaking.

Then slowly he moves backwards and presses his back against the wall. To Neville it looks like Draco is about to collapse and he wants nothing, but to take the blond in his arms and dissaparate to who cares where.

"How much did you hear Longbottom? Did we manage to entertain you?"

Then without a second thought Neville crosses the distance between them, puts his arm around Draco's shoulder and pulls the blond into his side: "Let's go. You can stay with me for some… as long as you're ho- as long as you need it."

He is certain that Draco is about to protest and he is ready to fight the ex-slytherin as a Gryffindor he is. But Malfoy is blissfully silent while they make their way outside the anti-apparation wards.

He doesn't say a word until they arrive at Longbottom Hall.

"I told my little fiancée, that she was not my type," Draco chuckles. "Explained by describing what exactly I prefer."

Neville winces. Poor girl.

"Would you like something?"

"No. I don't know…"

"Come, I'll show you the guest room."

"Next to yours?"

Neville shrugs. If Draco wants a room next to his, that's not a problem. They have plenty of rooms.

He opens the door, shows the bathroom, introduces Malfoy to Blossom (their house elf).

"If you need something, I am in the door opposite yours, alright?"

Malfoy is standing by the window, looking outside, with his back turned towards Neville. He doesn't say anything.

"Ok, then goodnight. "

Neville is glad that Gran is away, because he doesn't think that she would have approved of him bringing home Draco Malfoy instead of a 'nice girl'.

Neville spells the lights off and closes his eyes.

About fifteen minutes later, he's still not asleep.

Five more minutes later his bedroom door creaks open and Neville jumps sits up.

"Relax, Longbottom, the Dark Lord is still dead."

Malfoy saunters towards the door, obviously clad in nothing more than one of the silk guest robes. His feet are bare and his hips are swinging as he crosses the room.

"Do you… need something?" Neville asks, when the blond climbs on the bed.

"And what do you think?"

Neville is trying to think and not look; the tie, which is supposed to keep the robe close, is doing a very poor job of it and it's almost impossible to keep his eyes off Malfoy's milky skin.

"I think that you should get some sleep," Draco smells of soap, water, and some kind of sweet cream (figures he would use it).

"Think again," Draco says and is leaning closer, his lips full, wet, inviting…

"No, Draco," Neville puts his hand between them. "I didn't bring you here for this."

"Maybe I came here for this."

"No, you did not."

"You would know!"

"I would."

Draco's right eyebrow lifts a bit. Neville has no idea, what he's thinking.

"Don't tell me you don't want this. You want me, don't you Longbottom?"

Draco can purr like a kitten and Neville doesn't think that it would be right to deny it, because it would be lying and he doesn't want to lie to Draco: "Yes, I do. You are very… you, I guess."

Draco's smirk is triumphant, but there is also some nervousness about his lips, but none in his voice: "What is keeping you then? Certainly not I."

Neville sighs. How can he explain it?

"You are still calling me by my family name," he says.

"What?"

"My name is 'Neville', Draco."

"So, you want me to call you 'Neville'? I can do that," Draco bats his eyelashes.

Neville feels like crying as he gently pushes the blond away: "No, Draco. I am sorry, but, no. this would not be right."

Draco pushes his full lower lip out in such way that under other circumstances Neville would have laughed seeing the pout.

"Fine! I will remove myself from your house- "

This time it's Neville who grabs the other man by his hands and doesn't let him to get off the bed: "No, you will not."

"But- "

"Shh," Neville pushes Draco down, so that he is lying with his head on the pillow next to his. He lies down himself and pulls the blanket over them both.

"Sleep," he says finding Draco's hand under the blanket. "Goodnight," he adds, giving the hand a gentle squeeze.

TBC

in part 2


	7. Chapter 7

**Author**: TheSiner

**Title**: Post Post Scriptum

**Chapters**: 2/2

**Genre**: Drama, Romance,

**Pairing**: Draco/Neville, Harry/Snape (mentioned),

**Summary**: Have you ever wondered, why is the totally nice guy together with that complete b***h? Draco and Neville's story. Continuing the series.

**Rating**: Teen

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended.

**Warnings**: slash, not beta-edited. About the same warning that in the first story. I will add that you won't see much of Harry and Draco in this one.

A/N: In this, I continue with Draco and Neville's story. So there is not much Severus/Harry. Not interested? Don't read then. But for those who are – enjoy.

* * *

**Continued**

_**8.**_

When Draco opens his eyes, he is not sure where he is at first. Until he turns his head to the side and sees that, it is Neville Longbottom, whose arm is draped over his middle. It's a large and heavy arm and it is strange that Draco doesn't feel trapped, maybe because said arm doesn't feel possessive.

Longbottom's face is so close that Draco can count his every eyelash. Actually, he has very nice, long, dark eyelashes. But, of course, if Draco didn't find Longbottom attractive, then he wouldn't have climbed in his bed. At least he wouldn't have this time for some inexplicable reason.

Maybe, because he thinks that Longbottom is attractive enough, and he is there. Maybe…Maybe Draco is not in the mood to analyse his reasoning too closely.

Longbottom's lips part and Draco has this ridiculous urge to insert his tongue between them. His eyelashes flutter and their eyes meet. And once again, Draco wants to kiss Longbottom. Ridiculous. It's a foolish want.

"Are you rich, Longbottom?" is Draco's 'good morning'.

Longbottom looks at him for a long moment and then rolls his eyes and Draco tries to hide his disappointment when Longbottom takes the arm away. But then he sits up and the sheet slides down uncovering broad chest with dark nipples and thick, toned, manly waist. Longbottom is heavy with muscle and solid, he is absolute opposite to Draco's graceful slenderness…

"No, Draco."

"What? You are not rich?"

"No. I know, what you are thinking about. The answer is, no."

That's just not fair!

"You can pout all you want; it's still a 'no'."

Now it's Draco's turn to roll his eyes: "I'm in your bed Longbottom."

"And you still won't call me 'Neville'."

This is ridiculous: "Are you a virgin **Neville**?"

"No, Draco, I am your friend."

"Am I about to hear some lecture on Gryffindor moral 101, or something?"

"Do you want to?" Is he kidding? "But, no, not really." Then Longbottom puts his palm on Draco's cheek, turns his head so they are facing each other, and looks closely into Draco's eyes. There are only a couple of inches between their lips. "I am not going to take advantage of you Draco, even with your leave. And I will not let you use me."

Draco tries to get free of the grip. Longbottom is rejecting him! Neville Longbottom dares to reject him, Draco Malfoy!

"Draco! Don't. Don't be angry with me, please. You don't need sex. You need someone to be there for you. If I sleep with you…" Longbottom isn't letting him look away.

How dares Longbottom to… to… Draco has no idea, what… but, how dares he! An odd swell of emotion, threatening to overcome Draco.

"Look at me Draco. I am your friend. I hope that one day you might become my friend too," then he lets go and Draco can finally hide his eyes away from the inquisitive gaze, which feels as if reaching into the very depths of his soul.

Draco knows, that he should say something. Make a scathing remark or insult Longbottom, preferably in the worst way possible. But his mind simply refuses to come up with anything and Draco has a feeling that even if he knew, what to say, his lips would have failed him.

Then there is a strong grip on his hand.

"Come," Longbottom pulls Draco to his feet, out of the bed.

"Let's get dressed and have some breakfast. How do you take your tea?"

Despite everything, Draco can't find anything wrong with his breakfast. It's good, just the way he likes it. He can't find anything wrong with the house either. Of course, it's not Malfoy Manor, but that is actually a plus because the Longbottom Hall is less ostentatious. White marble, countless ornaments, golden door handles and all the crystal. Singing roses? Albino peacocks? At this point, Draco finds all that splendour pompous and annoying. Maybe he is somewhat biased; he has been showed the door, after all.

Anyway, right now he much prefers the calm elegance of Longbottom hall.

Approaching clicks of someone's heels bring Draco out of his musings.

"Neville!" The women's voice is stern. It makes an impression of someone, who never quite approves of you no matter who you are or what you do.

"Where are you boy?" The elderly witch keeps clamouring even as she is entering the dining room and Draco decides that apparently it's just her way of a stern matron and a force to reckon with at the same time.

"Hi, Gran," Longbottom sounds meek like a little boy, "How was your trip?"

"Fine," she retorts curtly, the sharp, brown eyes already boring into Draco.

"And you would be?" She asks gruffly, and Draco has no doubt that she knows very well who he is, since the Wizarding world is not that small and his hair alone is very distinguishable.

"This is Draco, Gran," Longbottom introduces politely. "Draco, meet my Grandmother, Augusta Longbottom."

"It's a pleasure, Madam," Draco turns on his charm, well aware, that it is going to annoy her.

"Hm," she makes it clear that the feeling is not mutual.

"Draco is going to stay here for a while," Longbottom announces calmly. "As long as he will feel like staying, I mean."

Her expression says 'we'll see about it'. Her lips press together in a thin line: "Can I talk to you outside for a moment Neville?"

Draco marvels at the manner in which she manages to wield Longbottom's name like a weapon against him.

"Sure, Gran."

Longbottom seems to be pretty unperturbed, maybe he is used to her ways. Draco would know, with parents like his.

Draco continues cutting his food into small pieces, bringing them to his mouth and swallowing meticulously.

Few minutes later Longbottom returns to his place at the table. He's as calm as he was, when he left. Nothing hints at the argument, which Longbottom most likely has just had with his grandmother.

Well, Draco is not going to bring it up.

Apparently, Longbottom is not a pushover after all, since he is not asking Draco to leave.

"I wish I didn't have to work today," he says instead. "I would have liked to show you the garden myself. Some plants are not very friendly, but you will probably recognise those. You did fairly well in Herbology, didn't you?"

"I do very well in everything, Longbottom," Draco snorts.

"Of course," Longbottom's smile is indulgent. It's like he founds it amusing that Draco would think he should apologise for doubting his abilities.

Draco is lazing on the terrace with a glass of daiquiri, probably the first one in the poor house elf's life, but very good nonetheless.

A shadow falls over him; it is too early for Neville to be home. Draco cracks open his right eye. Who else could it be, but the charming 'Gran' Augusta?

"Good morning Madam," he greets her lifting the glass by an inch.

"It's well in the afternoon, Mr. Malfoy."

"Oh. Alright," he doesn't really care, does he?

"Mr. Malfoy, a good guest knows when he has outstayed his welcome. Or when he's not welcome at all."

Subtle, isn't she? Draco answers with a smirk: "I couldn't agree more. You are absolutely right."

Draco doesn't look at her; if he looked, it would mean, that he's interested in her reaction, which would imply that he might be trying to get a rise out of her. Which is true, but unlike Augusta Longbottom, Draco knows something of decorum and subtlety.

He doesn't think her face reddens when she is angry though. She's most likely the eyes narrowing, hissing type, like Snape.

And exploding suddenly type.

"You are the most shameless, layabout I have ever had displeasure to meet! Have you no decency at all!"

"Apparently, you have not had displeasure to meet many Slytherins; of course it is not like I don't stand out a bit even among my house mates. Father says that I have taken after the mother's side of the family. He doesn't mean it as a compliment," it's probably true. All the Blacks have been particular in their own ways, except, maybe Draco's mother. She is actually very sane and mild mannered in comparison.

Draco finally graces her with a look. Her eyes have become very narrow slits. Augusta has no sense of humour apparently.

"Your presence in this house is absolutely improper! To burden strangers the way you-"

"Look," she is starting to give Draco a headache and wasting her breath. "I am afraid, I can't agree with you on this, Madam. I could never be a burden. Someone ugly with no personality would be a burden. I, on the other hand, am an adornment."

Draco emphasizes his words by giving outraged Augusta Longbottom one of his most charming smiles.

"And I wish my presence here was more improper…" he whispers to himself, watching her stalk away in a huff.

**9.**

Neville is plucking off the blooming heads of singing Dandelions. It's a bit sad, to end the soft tune, but that is the work of apprentice like. Could be worse; they could be screaming and begging him to leave them alone. Besides, singing dandelion honey is the most important ingredient into the potion used to enable mute people talk. He is just being sentimental and silly.

But then Professor's Burdock's house elf announces that 'Mr. Longbottom, Sir!' is having a visitor and should apparate back to the greenhouses.

Neville frowns before apparating. Who could it be? Who would visit him at work?

He almost makes a fool of himself by tripping over his own feet. But, damn, who expects Lucius Malfoy to show up at your workplace in all his arrogant glory? But when he thinks about it, Neville can imagine what this is about.

Offensive is the best defensive, or isn't it what they say?

"Mr. Malfoy. How are you? What brings you here?"

Lucius gives Neville an assessing look. He doesn't hide it. Neville can see that he is being judged, because the man wants him to see it. Probably to make sure that Neville doesn't miss it when it is shown that he has been found lacking in a subtle way.

"I went to school with your parents," Malfoy states, making Neville freeze.

But he manages to stop himself from reacting, because that is obviously what Malfoy is aiming for. He wants to get a rise out of Neville, to throw him out of balance. He wonders if it is personal, or it's a habit.

"My parents are fine," it's not true, but it's not a lie either.

"Really? And what would they say if they knew that you had invited to their house the nephew of the woman responsible for their current state?"

Neville gapes. He knows that he is staring at Lucius Malfoy like a muggle at a unicorn.

Then he gives a laugh: "Are you for real? Did I hear you correctly? Did you really just say that?"

"You really think that I would hold against Draco something his aunt has done? You think I'm... sorry, but do you think I am stupid or that prejudiced?" Now it is Neville, who is trying to understand the other man.

Lucius' expression doesn't change; it looks like his face has been carved in marble. But then there is a subtle shift; something does change in the man's eyes.

"Merlin, you do. You really thought I was like that!"

Neville is not sure if he should laugh or be offended. He doesn't even care that some people obviously doesn't think of him much; it feels too good to make Lucius Malfoy uncomfortable.

"It is strange that you find your low social status amusing. But I see that you are not the kind of fool I thought you were."

"Hm. Thank you," Neville doesn't let the spitefulness, which he is feeling to colour the tone of his voice.

Neville sees Lucius lips twitch in annoyance, but the man ignores his last retort.

"Mr. Longbottom, I understand that my son is currently residing with you."

"Yes, he is," Neville has decided not to give Malfoy senior more than necessary. It's not that he is scared, but cautious, and he doesn't think Lucius Malfoy deserves any courtesy.

"Mr. Longbottom. My son has greatly displeased me," Malfoy pauses narrowing his eyes. "And he continues to displease me. In light of what he has revealed to me about his lifestyle… I can't help, but to be concerned about the nature of your relationship with Draco. I would be very disappointed if your 'cohabitation' would hinder my son's return to the family."

Neville blinks, trying to digest all the pompous words.

"Listen, Mr. Malfoy, Draco and I, we are not a couple, if that is, what you are hinting. But it doesn't matter, I mean, it wouldn't matter, even if we were together that way. I have already told him that he can stay as long as he wants. He is a friend and nothing you can say could change that."

There was a long pause. Neville lifts his chin by an inch; if necessary, he can out-stare even a Malfoy.

"I see."

After that, he turns around and stalks away and Neville returns to the singing dandelions. He can't say that he isn't worried. Everyone and their dog know that Lucius Malfoy is a bloody bastard. Neville has no idea how far he is ready to go to have his way.

_**10. **_

Longbottom is such an awful cock-tease. Does he honestly expect Draco to believe that he has that much respect for him? It's impossible. Draco is a freeloader, he has slept with Snape, and he has called Longbottom and his Gryffindor buddies all the names imaginable and tried to get them expelled. He comes from a family that supported the Dark Lord.

Moreover, he is not a virgin or a witch, so why would Longbottom refuse him, because of 'respect'? Why the stubborn idiot keeps refusing him when there is nothing worth respecting, when Draco owes Longbottom for board and lodging?

'I don't want to use you' – oh, please! That's so moronic.

Longbottom has a couple of perfect excuses to fuck Draco.

What's keeping him from it? Oh, sure, there is this thing they keep prattling about – Gryffindor nobility, morals etc. However Draco is certain, that it's more talk than action and most men loose their scruples behind close doors along with their closes.

"Look at her, Draco! Isn't she a beauty?"

Yes, Draco can't deny that she is.

"Wild butterfly orchid, very rare. They bloom late in the evening to attract a particular kind of butterflies, which come out at that time attracted by their sweet smell. The butterflies pollinate them."

Under other circumstances Draco would have pointed out that, he is not stupid and that it is obvious that butterflies pollinate the damn flowers. But Longbottom's voice is like a flow of warm water pouring over him, it's just in the right temperature and impossible to resist.

He doesn't care what Longbottom is talking about as long as the words keep flowing. How ridiculous is that?

Isn't that a bit pathetic, that Draco is there tonight, because Longbottom is off somewhere, having a drink with Weasley? Better not to answer that. Draco wonders if Neville is going to tell Weasel that they are living together now (kind of). He would have liked to see the red-head's face. Weasley had always been prone to dislaying expressions that are entertaining to an extreme.

Oh, well…

"Hello, Draco," Blaise's tone screams 'reserved'. It reminds Draco of his mother, who likes to show that she's not happy with him by being standoffish. He is never really affected by her **particular **coldness, because it doesn't differ from her usual coldness that much.

"It's nice to see you too,"

"What are you doing, Draco?"

"What do you mean, Blaise?"

Zabini doesn't even crack a smile and Draco wonders what has crawled up his arse.

"Everyone knows that you have broken your engagement and left the Manor. Or rather your father had made you leave."

"Do they?"

"Yes, they do!"

Draco has never seen Zabini this flustered. It's interesting and baffling.

"But you obviously are finding this funny. I don't understand you Draco. Where are you staying? Don't tell me it's The Leaky Cauldron!"

"No, of course not. I am waiting the tables at the Hog's Head and they let me sleep in the broom closet," Draco wishes he had a camera, so he could take a picture of Blaise's face. The funniest expression he had ever seen on anybody. Migt even top Weasel.

"Your sense of humour is very poor, Zabini. Anyway, I am doing fine. Besides, why are you so worried about my relationship with Lucius, when I am not?"

"Why? Are you absolutely obtuse? You are one of my closest associates; we are often seen together. How do you think, this rumour is going to reflect on me? If you will continue ruining your reputation by associating with nobodies and alienating yourself from your family and…"

Draco is taken aback at first. This whole speech, it seems so out of place, so inappropriate, so silly and… and suddenly, now and here, he has Blaise Zabini figured out. Finally. Just like that. The spell is broken.

Oh, Salazar, but it simple! Zabini is a snob and social climber.

His ex-house mate is still insecure of his position in this ridiculous swell society of purebloods. If Draco thinks about it, Blaise's mother has attained place among them by being marriage to one influential British pure blood after another. Of course, the rumour about eight husbands is just that – rumour. But four isn't a small number either.

The fact that she's Italian, very clever and very beautiful has everything to do about it. And the widow of Antius Zabini. However, no one knows who she was before. The famous Mrs. Zabini could have as well been a pretty bar maid, for all Draco knows.

"Malfoy!" Blaise growls, and Draco can sense him squirming; he has a rare talent of spotting other's weaknesses, it's a marvel that Blaise has remained an enigma for him so long.

Draco graced him with a tolerant smile, not without a dose of pity mixed in it: "Lucius is not going to disown me Blaise. I am the only son. It would be like hexing his nose off to spite his face. All the money going to some poor second cousin... And do you think I care what the likes of myself think of me? I don't need them. I come here to get drunk, to pick someone up and probably because it has become a habit. I don't like them; I don't like 'us'. Can you imagine that I never realised it? I have no idea, why I am here tonight."

Then Draco lifted his glass sin a toast and drained it: "Enjoy yourself. I will be leaving before the _beu monde_ starts ignoring me. Or runs me off."

_**11.**_

Neville spots Ron the moment he walks through the door of The Three Broomsticks. The Weasley red hair is like a beacon.

"Haya, mate," Neville gladly offers Ron his hand when Ron stands up and reaches out for a shake.

"How are you doing, Ron? It's been a couple of weeks, right?"

"More like three," the red head snorts. "Time runs fast when you are busy. Well, when you are busy with something else than studying for your OWLs or NEWTs that is!" Ron's face breaks into a sly smile.

"So, the Auror training program. Is it what you expected?"

"More or less," Ron says and in the next half an hour Neville finds out everything what is there to know about being a trainee Auror.

"—and then Moody says: 'I'll better see you dead than wearing the red robes, if you won't pull your act together!' And the eye keep spinning like mad for the whole time I know, you might not think it is funny, but believe me, it was hilarious!"

Neville doesn't doubt it. He also has a couple of stories to tell. Professor Burdock can be pretty eccentric at times.

Two pints later, Ron put his hand on Neville's arm and leaned forward: "Alright, Nev, now tell me, what's bothering you."

Neville raised an eyebrow at the red head.

"Yes, I can tell. Come on Neville, spill! What's on your mind?"

Neville rubbed the back of his neck looking sideways: "I am not sure, you want to know."

"Try me. That's what friends are for."

"But remember, you asked for it," Neville warns him.

"Sure, mate."

Neville opens his mouth and then closes it. He has no idea where to start. It would not make much sense, if he got right to the point and would be too long if he started from the beginning.

"Draco Malfoy is living with me," he says and watches Ron's eyebrows go for the hairline. "He had a fight with Lucius and, um, I offered him to stay at the Longbottom Hall for now."

Ron is looking at Neville in disbelief: "Why? Since when you are friends with Draco Malfoy."

"I don't know. that's the problem. I think of him as of a friend, but I have no idea, what he's thinking. No, I have some idea, and I want to change his mind, but I have no idea, what he would do if… when… I am not making much sense, am I?"

Ron's face took on a measured look: "Erm, Neville, what kind of friends are you and Malfoy? And before you answer that, keep in mind that I am still getting used to the idea that you and him are on any kind of friendly terms. So, please, be gentle man."

Neville's lips quirk in amusement and he looks sideways, instantly noticing a cracked floor tile. We might be something else, than friends," then he sighs not feeling like smiling anymore. "Something more than friends to me and probably something less to him."

"You're meaning?"

"I am not sure if he wants to sleep with me because I keep refusing him, or, because he really likes me."

Neville's gaze snaps up at the sound of spluttering.

"THAT!" Ron says and spells away the spilled bear. "Was not what I meant asking you to be gentle!"

"Um… sorry…"

"Forget it. Malfoy Neville? Draco Malfoy?"

"Mm-yeah, definitely not Lucius."

Ron obviously couldn't stop a giggle from escaping his lips, at the ridiculousness of that: "Hope not! But Draco Malfoy? Seriously? I can't bloody believe it! How did that came about?"

" We talked and one thing led to another. But nothing had really happened yet, and I am thinking that it might be better to leave it at that," because he was afraid to loose what he got, and maybe because Draco needed a friend more than a lover.

" The selfish part of me is cheering for that. But the one that's not wants to ask, what exactly you are afraid of."

"I am afraid that the morning after I will wake up to a cold and empty bed."

Ron scratches his jaw: "Well, it's obviously you, who knows him the best here, so you should know, what he might do on the morning after. Merlin's pants, am I really discussing this? But, anyway, a good Auror doesn't leap into something, unless there's no time. A good Auror tries to foresee the possible 'problems' and makes plans of action to prevent them. You could always tie him up. Or, hide his wand, believe me, Malfoy will never leave his wand behind. "

Neville stars at the other wizard for a long moment.

"Thanks, I guess," he laughs then.

"You are welcome," Ron toasts him with his goblet. "Anyway, I don't think I am the one you should ask for relationship advice. I am hardly qualified."

"So, Ke… Kedra…?"

"Kedra didn't work out."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Not your fault."

"Still…"

"She was a nice enough girl, but something was just missing. I can't even tell what. At least Mum is happy. She wants me to get back together with Hermione, and I am afraid Hermione wants it too. Can get kind of uncomfortable, you know?"

Neville nods and winces. Molly Weasley and his Gran should start a club. And ask Lucius Malfoy to join them. Well, there's a funny thought! The three of them sitting around table and sharing their feelings about trying to arrange their children's' lives.

"What are you laughing about?"

"Just had the most ridiculous thought, kind of an idea, actually. Involving your Mother, my Gran and Lucius Malfoy."

"I don't think I want to know!" Ron exclaims, scandalised.

Neville bursts out laughing: "Not THAT kind of idea! Merlin, Ron, are we drunk?"

"Nah, we're good, not there yet and must have another pint…"

_**12.**_

When Draco apparates home, the first thing he does is to summon the house elf and ask if Longbottom is in already. He isn't, but Draco is not disappointed at all; at least that what he tells himself.

What the hell is wrong with him?

If Longbottom is not home then Neville can't make another attempt at seducing the stubborn idiot into his bed. He considers the option of waiting for Longbottom naked in his bed, but Draco has tried it twice already and Longbottom has refuted him both times. Of course, he has been perfectly nice about it, but… he wants to stop this tiring obsession with Longbottom's cock.

He sits down at the dining room table and orders the house elf to bring him a glass of water.

For some reason Draco is suddenly feeling so lost… absent-mindedly he brings the glass to his lips and takes a small sip. Lost in thoughts? Only he is not thinking of anything. But the world seems so large, cold and empty all around him. Everything suddenly seems so pointless; he feels so useless… the despair makes his throat tighten almost painfully and his eyes prickle.

Merlin, when did he turn into such wimp?

He hears the door open. It must be Neville. Draco's fingers tighten around the glass stubbornly.

However it hardly lasts a moment.

He stands up and still not thinking of anything starts towards the door which lads to the hall, in a blink he's there, bumping into Longbottom, who catches Draco by his shoulders.

"Whoa! Where's the fire," Longbottom smells beer and male and… Draco looks up into those incredibly plain, incredibly kind, grey eyes, his lips part, but no words are coming. He is trying to say something with his eyes at least, to plead, for something.

And then there is a distance between them and no hands on him.

"Not tonight, Draco, alright? Not tonight."

Draco watches Longbottom's broad back and mussed hair as he is leaving him alone in the dark, empty hallway, in this house, where he has lived for two weeks and probably had felt more comfortable than he should, because it is not his house, not his home, not his anything. Why is he here? What is he trying to accomplish. No one wants him here; no one needs him. As Augusta Longbottom keeps reminding him every day, he can only ruin everything for her grandson, who has apparently had enough of Draco. Walking back to the room, he lets out a strangled chuckle. Finally.

And since when does he care if taking what he wants ruins something for someone else? Obviously, the masochist in him has finally beaten the sadist. And doesn't that sound stupid, if only in his thoughts.

Why did he ever think something could have worked between a Longbottom and a Malfoy?

They are too different and on the opposite sides, still, after everything, because only naïve think that the war is truly over. It never will be for the old pure blood families who fear for their way of life or for magical creature haters, or for muggleborns who hate pure bloods; because they do not like being looked down on.

It's ironic that Draco isn't truly moved by any of the fractions, he just uses his status as a pure-blood to pose and aggravate people the same way he uses his sexual orientation to annoy his parents. He doesn't truly care about how others live or what they are as long as they leave him alone. If they aren't smart enough to keep the distance, the consequences are their own fault.

OK, that's not completely true, Draco does go out of his way to mess with people… but they deserve to be messed with, scandalised, challenged… tested. And they almost never fail to prove Draco right. They confirm tall his preconceptions, prooving that he is right to despise them.

_Except Longbottom,_ Draco thinks bitterly. He was the only one with whom the usual tactics failed. And a lot of good it has done him.

And now he is sitting in his room, (which is actually one of Longbottom's rooms), with his head between his knees and fighting off a… bout of distress that Draco experiences once in a while… anyway, leaning forward and holding head between his knees usually helps.

How has everything turned into this tragic comedy? Draco Malfoy chasing Neville Longbottom – that's enough to make a toad laugh. Pun intended.

Draco looks at the potted plants on the windowsill, green and lush. They look like happy plants. He had never thought much of green vegetation forms, seeing them mostly as potion ingredients, and they are Longbottom's whole life. How pathetic... or charming is that?

If Draco were a plant he would not be a happy plant, he wouldn't fit within the gardens of Longbottom Hall, since it's master obviously cares for miserable creatures, or pities them. And everyone knows, it's sadly not the same. However Draco as one of the Wizarding World's privileged, is not one of them.

Neville wakes up. His eyes are itching and his throat is dry and the room, or maybe Neville himself, smells like stale beer.

Urgh…

It's a definite hangover. Maybe the third he has ever had? The first he had the next day after loosing his virginity to a muggle boy whom he met in the village near Longbottom Hall. The second hangover he had after celebrating the fall of the Dark Lord and Bellatrix Lestrange. Merlin, he still hates her…

He doesn't have a hangover potion, Neville is sure of that, because Gran would never keep something like that around – she has always believed in facing the consequences of one's actions, especially when they are irresponsible.

It means - a headache draught and pepper-up will have to do.

"Blossom!" He calls out and the house elf pops up so fast that he gets dizzy. Neville is about to moan for the potion, but stops short.

"What's the matter Blossom? What happened?" Neville has known the elf for almost twenty years and can tell that something is not right the moment he sees her. The elf's whole being just screams – _distressed_!

"Oh, Master!" The huge eyes fill with tears in front of Neville's eyes. "It is being Master Draco!"

"Draco? What happened?" Neville is out of bed, the headache forgotten. "What has happened to Draco? Where is he? Is he hurt?"

"No! Not hurt. But Blossom hears noise and checks on Master Draco and… and master Malfoy is magicking his things in his bags!"

"What…"

"Blossom is a good elf, she offers help, but Master Draco says, no, she cannot and she is not telling master Neville until he calls her. Blossom is a bad elf, very bad! Master Draco leaving and, and—it's all Blossom's fault!"

Neville's head is spinning and he can't tell exactly if it's because of hangover or Blossom's crying or because of what he has just learned.

"Calm down, Blossom and not so loud, alright? When did he leave?"

"Night. Master Draco leaving night and forbidding to tell Master Neville," the elf sniffs.

Neville closes his eyes: "Bugger!"

"Shite."

He can't believe it, alright, maybe he can, but he doesn't want to. There is a pressure of headache in his brain, which means that he still cannot think very straight.

"Blossom? Bring me a headache draught and some pepper up, please. And two slices of toast."

He has to start somewhere, doesn't he and then, then he will think of what to do with Draco. However Neville is certainly getting him back. The only question is about how and why, or rather, what would follow after Draco's return.

_**13. **_

The owners has tried to make the place look expensive and elegant. Draco snorts. The silk and satin are low quality, the chandeliers were made of crystal, not diamonds, the magical artefacts displayed are fakes. He wonders if anyone else notices. Anyone who had not been raised in a house like the Malfoy Manor.

However no one cares. The wizards who came to the Gentlemen's' Club at Ardour Street No 14 Knockturn Alley were not here to admire the interior.

The man lounging on a chair opposite his, has blond hair. However it's not Malfoy blond, but short and yellowish. Thank Merlin Draco doesn't have that kind of father issues. He has a strong jaw, thin lips and brows that would become bushy with age and lack of care. Linard is American and his smile is so white that Draco almost changes his mind when he gives what he must think is a dazzling smile. But mostly the man is grinning slightly, convinced of his he is being absolutely charming. Draco lets him believe whatever he wants. He doesn't care.

Linard is telling about his broom business, which is the reason why he has come to Britain. Some men think that talk of business is foreplay. That doesn't bring back the happiest of memories, but Draco listens, nods, smiles prettily. He is exactly what Linard thinks him to be – a pretty, foreign thing, a superficial aristocrat longing for someone big and strong. But maybe the American has never heard the Malfoy name, since it's no secret that half of the wizards who come to this place are whores and the other is looking for whores. Draco is a whore tonight. He knows the part exceptionally well. Draco smiles again, when Linard is grinning. He thinking that the American looks almost disgustingly handsome.

Finally, Linard gulps down the last sip of his drink, and puts the glass down on the table, ready to go.

They stand up and leave together. Linard apparates them both to his rented flat and son Draco is laying face down on the bed. "You like it, don't you? You little British whore. Say you like it!" The American's wholesomeness is gone, replaced by something completely different.

Draco tells him everything he wants to hear. He begs, he pleads and he crawls until his knees smart.

He unmercifully shuts off the voice, which keeps nagging him, telling him to stop, to get out, which screams at him that what he is doing is wrong. Why would it be? It's not the first time he's doing this. The American is much better looking than Snape after all and... and this is what Draco wants. He wants to feel, to ache, to forget. He wants to be just like this. He deserves the punishment.

Neville shouldn't have expected that Draco will return his owl. He shouldn't feel so disappointed when his owl Pepper returns empty handed. Or is it empty-clawed? Well, not empty-clawed really, since the bird brings back his letter unopened. Neville had tried to address the letter to Draco and to Draco at Malfoy Manor, but it does him no good. There is a possibility that Draco has refused to take the letter, but he can't know, if Pepper has even found the wizard. The more Neville thinks about it, the more worried he gets.

He can hardly sleep that night.

The next morning Neville has some tea and anxiously watches the grandfather clock on the wall waiting for a decent hour, so he can go to Malfoy Manor. Minutes drag and seen like hours. Half past eight Neville grabs his wand and dashes out. He hopes the Malfoys are early raisers.

It's of no use. The Malfoys refuse his _visit._ He speaks to house elf who reveals that Draco might be staying with his friends or in his apartment at Diagon Alley. Apartment? Apparently for a Malfoy there is homeless and then there is _homeless. _The realisation that Draco could have comfortably lived alone all this time, but nevertheless chose to stay with him at Longbottom Hall, makes something tighten in his gut.

He doesn't find Draco at his apartment.

"Where are you silly fool..." Neville murmurs. He can't help, but feel that Draco has gotten himself in some kind of trouble. Besides he can't help feeling that it is all his fault, because if Draco is in trouble, then it is so because he left the Longbottom Hall. That is certainly Neville's fault for not holding on Draco stronger. It's so simple. He was afraid of getting hurt and now Draco is probably lost and hurting.

He will have to try the friends.

"Where do you think you're going, my little dragon?" Linard smirks… not as sly as before. There is a cold edge to his smirk now. "I am not done with you yet." His hand grips Draco's wrist painfully.

That is unacceptable. The game is over. Draco has had enough. "Don't touch me!" He snaps.

The next moment Linard has snatched Draco's wand from him and has his heavy hand pressing down on the blond wizard's neck, backing him against the wall next to the door. "This is my game and it's going to be my rules Little Dragon. You think you're so clever, don't you? I saw you walk in yesterday, looking as if you owned the place. You thought that you had me by my balls the moment I set my eyes on you. Well you're wrong my sweet. I am the master here and we will be done, when I will say that we are done. Do you understand?"

Draco wants to yell at the trice damned bastard, to demand, to threaten the man with his father, which is after all a kind of a knee-jerk reflex to the Malfoy heir. But Linard is squeezing his windpipe so tightly that he has trouble breathing. Not to mention yelling. Draco feels as if he would burst in helpless anger every moment now. However, there is nothing he can do.

The man snaps a cuff around Draco's wrist and fastens the other ring to the iron wrought headboard of the heavyset iron bed and leaves saying that he would be back at dinnertime, with a predatory smirk on his face.

"You can't be thinking that you will get away with this! Someone will come here and -"

"Oh? And who will it be? Everyone knows that your parent's couldn't have cared less, since they have cast you out. Didn't think I new? Wel, I am rather well informed, boy. You keep calling yourself Draco Malfoy while you are more like Draco _nobody_. Who of your pure-blood friends will come to see _Draco_ _nobody_?"

Draco doesn't answer, because Linard is right, isn't he?

"Behave!" The bastard calls over his shoulder, on his way out.

Draco sags against the headboard, not bothering to rub the wrist, which is already aching because the cuff is too tight. He tries to swallow the tears that threaten to break loose any moment now. He just wants to be somewhere else. He want home. He wants Longbottom, Neville to be here. Draco chokes back a desperate sob. He wants to go home, whenever it is.

_**14.**_

Neville feels as if he has been to the Hell and back. He has certainly been through the hell of pureblood snobbery. Under other circumstances he would feel that he had heard enough snide remarks for the rest of his life. But it was all worth it. It would be worth it, if Draco would be here.

Neville had investigated thoroughly. He had found out all Draco's haunts, spoke to numerous witches and wizards who worked there. _Tipped_ half of the Knockurn Alley (Ok, maybe he was exaggerating a bit). In the end, he had to ask Ron to abuse his position as an Auror to find the address of the person that had been last seen with Draco.

At first, after the useless chase Neville feels exhilarated to have at least something, a thread. But then he is knocking on the door of some American guy, afraid of what he would find after the door opened. It will probably be Draco in the arms of another man. Draco will probably tell him to piss off. Was Neville going to beg and plead? He actually wants to tell Draco he's sorry and beg him for another chance.

Neville's hand quivers.

Then he composes himself and knocks with added force.

The door stays closed.

Neville is enough of a Gryffindor to point his wand towards the door without thinking, when he has a gut feeling: - _Alohomora!_

He doesn't pay attention to the interior. There is only one thought on his mind – Draco. Neville just needs him to be alright.

Neville rushes through the flat.

"Draco!" He calls out.

There is a closed door in the end of the hall. It is the last one. - _Alohomora! - _He calls out balancing on the edge of despair, feeling about to fall over it.

And there he is. His Draco. As crumpled up in a miserable heap as the sheets he's lying upon. Neville's gaze is drawn to Draco's wrist. It is handcuffed to the headboard, looking delicate for a man's appendix and scratched angry red.

"Draco..." he whispers. Neville rushes to the blond and casts another _Alohomora, _making the offending metal to fall away. "Draco," he almost moans gathering the other man in his arms.

"Don't," Draco's voice cracks and startles Neville. It's heartbreaking for him to hear. Whatever happened to Draco, it's only Neville's fault. He was the one who pushed Draco away... "Don't!" Draco tries pushing Neville away weakly. "Don't touch me! I am dirty, unworthy, sullied! I... don't! Go away. Leave me, leave me here! This is where I belong, what I deserve."

Neville shakes his head holding Draco close and rocking back and forth. "Never. I am never leaving you. You belong with me."

THE END

A/N: I have no time for writing recently, and almost o inspiration because of my work, but I was glad to finish this. Have to mention, that I have the next part started, but, I have no idea if it will be finished ever. Time will show – that can be said about my 2 other uncomplete stories.


End file.
